The crappy mothers club
I've often said that I'm not a Disney mom.
A Disney mom is that mother that lets her kids have 10 kids over for a sleep-over. She also allows said children bake cupcakes at midnight. Even though she's ready to pass out from exhaustion. She'll even proceed to break out the candy sprinkles and buttercream frosting, and encourage the children to channel their inner artist by decorating said cupcakes.
I can name a hundred different things that a Disney mom does.
I can also say that I don't do any of the hundred different things that the Disney mom does.
I am the mother who doesn't sit in the dance studio watching her daughter rehearse.
I am the mother who asks another parent to bring her eight year old son to his soccer game, and isn't there when the kid gets the soccer ball kicked right in the face, requiring some other parent to run onto the soccer field while my child rolls around the ground crying.
I am the mother who forgets to pack her son a lunch when he has a school field trip, and so the teacher has to dig through her purse to find cracker bits and a cheese string for him.
I am the mother who sneaks away from the dance recitals and asks another mother to "text me when it's almost over so I can make it back, and she'll never know I was gone."
I am the mother who lies in her children's bed at night, and when they say, "Can you rub my back?" I reply, "No, but can you rub mine?"
However, I am that mother who when I ask my kids, "What do you love about me?" and they sit there, and think, and think, and think...aaaaand think, and finally say, "You're nice....and ummm...and you're pretty...and...ummm...I can't think of anything;" I am that mother who will laugh with them, because I can't think of anything either.
I am that mother who provides the requisite food, shelter, and plain ol' boring love.
And apparently, that's good enough.