Failure as a mother comes easily.
The recipe of motherhood was designed to fall flat on occasion.
Mothers are like bakers, who most days execute flawless loaves of warm toasty bread. But, sometimes...
--when it matters
--when everyone is looking the recipe fails.
So too, goes motherhood.
Recently I took my kid on a cross country trek without any shoes. Which you know means he had to go pee every 25 minutes before we could find a store to purchase some new ones in. You might also know that he found what I thought to be a very clever solution to be wasteful and not good for the environment (see photo). No more trips to the nature center for you, kiddo.
Then there was the time he pooped out his pants onto the white carpet at a friend's house, stepped in it and tracked it all across her white carpet before I realized what had happened.
No picture for that frightful bit of parenting.
Or the time that my husband and I had our son wear the same pair of socks for a good several months. See, we work separate shifts and I thought he was putting new socks on at night and he thought I was putting clean ones on in the morning.
I'm betting a good 4 months passed before he finally got a fresh pair.
Oh, and then there's tonight. Liam's very first ever t-ball game and he'll be going without his parents to snap adorbale little photos and shoot videos of kids in ahaphazard running game.
We bought tickets to a show last October, never thinking for a minute that he'd have a "first" on this night.
His coach will do great and bring him home to us safely.
Because if he comes home with a preschool line-drive to the head, we'll feel horrible forever.