This is what I discovered when I became a mom. I’m not perfect. Surprised? I was. And now that my kids are older, they have discovered this too. But don’t worry, I’ve learned that being not perfect is okay. In fact, it’s more than okay. Being not perfect can actually help make better children.
Let me explain.
People in my family have had to grow accustomed to the fact that sometimes I lose things. A cell phone (we found it in the backyard next spring when the snow melted), my London Fog raincoat forgotten on a Grey hound bus, about a dozen pairs of sunglasses (I’m not allowed to own expensive sunglasses anymore), a brand new bathing suit left behind in a hotel room…a cute little camel hair jacket. It would literally pay someone to follow me around.
As the children have grown and life has gotten more complicated, it seems there are more things I have to remember and therefore…more things to forget. Sometimes I can’t find my keys. We will all be in the car, on time and ready to leave when I realize they are not in my pocketbook. Then we must all get up and frantically dash around the house looking for them. Sarah and Sammi have gotten good at this. First we look in all the usual places. The drawer in the phone table, the jacket I wore last night, the little blue and white china bowl. After that we try some unusual places. Beneath the sofa cushions in the family room, the silverware drawer, the refridgerator.
Sometimes we even call daddy to see if he took them to work by accident. That’s always a big mistake because he never takes them to work by accident and now he knows that I have lost my keys…again.
But I don’t forget everything. For instance, this morning I remembered to give my kids breakfast. I remembered to pack their lunch boxes. A turkey sandwich with not too much mayo for Sarah and ham with mustard (not the spicy kind) for Sammi who hates turkey (see I even remembered to buy ham last night at the grocery store.) I remembered to put a jar of peanut butter and a can of tuna in their backpacks for the school food drive and to sign the permission slip for the class field trip next week. I remembered to call the dentist and make an appointment for Sammi because she said she feels a funny hole back there. And I remembered to call the piano teacher and cancel the piano lesson so we could go to the dentist. Then I remembered to throw a load of laundry into the washing machine before I went to work so Sarah’s soccer shirt would be clean for her game that evening and I took some chicken breasts out of the freezer for dinner.
See, most of the time, I remember all the things I am supposed to remember.
It’s important I point these things out to you before I tell you about pajama day. Because once in awhile I forget something important. Sarah came home from school one day full of excitement. Thursday was going to be pajama day. Everyone was going to wear pajamas to school, even the teacher. She showed me the notice.
“What am I going to wear?” she asked. “I need pajamas.” Sarah and Sammi always wore their fathers t-shirts to sleep.
“Don’t worry” I said. “I’ll get you pajamas.” She looked worried. I didn’t blame her. After all, I had really messed up Mexico day. But I was determined to make it up to her and here was my chance.
During lunch, I tore myself away from work and went straight to the local children’s clothing store where they were sure to have pj’s. I found an adorable set of powder blues with little stars and moons all over….fabulous! Sarah was thrilled when I presented them to her after school and I was filled with self-satisfaction. This time I was right on top of things. I was a mother extraordinaire.
When Thursday arrived Sarah got on the bus exuberantly happy in her new pj’s. I waved goodbye feeling deliriously pleased with myself.
But at 3:40 when the bus dropped her off after school, there was a very large slam of the front door and the sound of angry stomping feet through the kitchen.
“MOMMY!” I heard. My chest tightened.
“Hi” I said meeting her in the living room. She was glowering at me.
“What’s wrong?”
“Today WAS NOT pajama day!” she shouted.
As it turned out, pajama day was next Thursday.
The good news is that as a result of my sometimes forgetfulness, Sarah has learned to double check herself. She leaves school notices near the coffee maker where I will be sure to see them in the morning with sticky notes attached that say things like, “Please read - very important” or, “Must have five dollars for class field trip tomorrow.” She hands me notices that need parent’s signatures with pen in hand for my signing convenience. And although she has developed a habit of rolling her eyes when I announce that I have lost my keys, she is usually the first one on her feet to help me find them. She is a master at finding things. The next summer she went to a summer camp that held a pajama day. She called three people in the morning to confirm it really was that day.
So you see, my non-perfectness has been rewarded. Sarah has become the most self-sufficient and responsible teenager the world has ever known.
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