The making of an imperfect (and ok with it) mom

I have always thought about starting a blog. Kind of like how I plan on  finding the bottom of my laundry basket, finding my long-lost abs and chronicling the boys' first years of life in amazingly creative scrapbooks. Only problem is I work non-stop, barely have time to shower and the most creative thing I manage most days is a occasional funny (to me) facebook musing. But, behold. I am 4 lines into a blog. Almost. Just one more word!

So why, you may ask, if you haven't gotten bored and stopped reading (refer to lack of creative side above), did I finally decide to actually do something that I intended to do? Shocking I know. I am pretty sure that if I don't vent, I may literally implode. Or explode which sounds much more dramatic and messy. And hey..I wouldn't be around to clean it up. But I digress. But to answer my question (I am stalling because I myself and pretty shocked that I am making time to type these words), therapy is expensive. I have already had years of it to get over a) perfectionism (don't quite have that one licked) and b) self-esteem (I spent college carrying around an extra 70 lbs and even though I've lost the weight, the fat girl in me won't leave me alone). And yes, I actually talk in bullet points and sidebars. (see item a above). But this isn't an academic journal article (my life's work) and its not perfect. It's going to be messy and real and honest (albeit anonymously for now).

Why "honest and imperfect"? As I have become a mom, and therefore apparently a full-fledged grownup, I have found that so many people use up so much energy trying to be perfect or at least trying to seem perfect, that we could use that time and energy for something better. Like, I don't know...having fun! I am still learning this lesson myself. I was and am still working on not striving for/faking perfection. Believe me, I am not judging. To each his own, whatever makes you happy, various cliches, etc. But, if you feel like you have to be something that you are not to try to be "good enough", then you can join my club. If you don't give a flip what people think, you can still join my club because I want to take lessons.

Last week, when I was on the phone with my best friend nominating myself for yet another mother of the year award (sarcasm here) for either a) serving PB&J for dinner b) forgetting show and tell or c) pretending it was 8pm instead of 7:30 so it would be bedtime (gonna hate it when those kids start telling time). And she said to me, "Good thing the judges that hand out those awards aren't here". I think she probably was just humoring me, but that stuck with me because a) I was telling her the worst mom thing I had done that day and she still thinks I rock and b) I am my own worst critic. So last night when we went to the gym, even though it was raining and even though the boys didn't want to, and the boys wore PJs and rainboots, I DID NOT CARE! People might have thought I was eccentric, lazy, or a hobo, but you know what, I had a whole hour with G the personal trainer from hell to forget all about it. The world did not come to a grinding halt. no one called the parenting police. And hey, I might actually find those abs one day.