The Perfect Mother
I do not cut up my onions into perfect squares whenever I cook. I sometimes get bleach on my colors when I do laundry. (Actually, I think my husband has more pink underwear than I do). I am guilty of feeding Nathan his noon meal at 2pm. I have put on mismatched socks onto his feet on more than one occasion when I cannot find the other one. He still sleeps next to me in his co-sleeper though I’ve been told to leave him in his nursery crib. I sometimes forget to bring an extra hat when we go out in case I drop the one he has on onto the ground. Sometimes dinner is served at 8pm or sometimes we just have leftovers. Sometimes I buy an extra carton of Eggs when we already have a dozen at home. Sometimes I let Nathan take a nap in his jumper/bouncer if I think moving him will wake him up even though it doesn’t look all that comfortable to me (though he does not seem to mind). I started his first solid foods with bananas instead of vegetables. Occasionally I put him down after he is dressed from our bath to get myself dressed and he fusses because he wants to nurse right then and there. I don’t always know how many layers of clothing he needs for the temperature at that moment. Sometimes I forget to pull the sunscreen down in the car so the sun doesn’t get into his eyes.
I can take one look at him and realize that despite all of my shortcomings, I am the perfect mother to him. When he wakes up from his nap crying because he is not yet fully awake, I rush to his side to comfort him and he gives me the biggest smile. I know all of his ticklish spots and I know just what to do to make him laugh and giggle. I am deaf, but I know the meaning of all of his sounds and cries with and without my “ears” on. I know by the color of his cheeks if he is not feeling well, or if he is too hot or cold. He falls asleep each night in my arms. When we wake up each morning, I nurse him and then we snuggle and he smiles and coos as I tell him our plans for the morning, just so he can hear my voice. I am fiercely protective of him and will move heaven and earth to keep him as safe from harm as I can. Anyone can see that he feels safe, secure, and loved unconditionally by me.
So when I feel like I am falling short of being the best I can, all I have to do is look at him. He is healthy and he is thriving. He is confident and sociable with almost anyone he meets. He is a happy baby and everyone tells me so. Despite all of my imperfections, I am a perfect mother to him.