Keeping It Real
I admit. There are times when I think, "I'm a good mom." It's rare, but it happens. Like the fact that I make my kids read and I've instilled in them the love of a good story. The thrill of turning the page. The desire to sneak books into bed and use a flashlight to get five more minutes. I was a literature major in college and my career is to get paid to read. I love all things books and print. (True fact: I love reading the dictionary.) So seeing Carver not getting ready for school but trying to finish his current novel just about puts me over the moon with pride.
Harder to admit is the times I am a real jerk. And it happens. For example, I was at the hoity-toity gourmet grocery store for their sale on eggplant and there was a young mom there. She had her perfect two-year old in the cart. He was chewing on organic broccoli. She was dressed just way too adorable for grocery shopping. She had cute shoes and fancy earrings. I had scuffed flats and bleach-stained jeans. It was hard not to compare myself to her. And then, as I was bagging my eggplant, another person approached the cute mom and asked her, "Where do you get your hair cut? It's so beautiful."
So I went to pay for my eggplant and the line was long and after a few minutes there was a terrible high-pitched wail from somewhere in the middle of the store. It continued for a few minutes, increasing in octaves. "Gee," I thought. "Someone sure is throwing a fit." The wailing got louder and who should round the corner? Cute mom with broccoli-eating kid. And what was my response? "HA!" I actually took pleasure in her child's tantrum.
Therefore, I am a jerk.