I have read about this whole good mother/bad mother/SAHM/WAHM/WOHM thing for weeks now on the Internet. Some of you have discussed it and beautifully, I might add. It all fascinates me, this thought of what a good mother is supposed to be. I’ve pretty much ignored it, because honestly, I know I am a good mom. I also know I am a bad mom. In my world you can be both.

Today, after reading Mom 101’s post about type B mom’s, I can’t seem to get this subject out of my head. I said this in Liz’s comments and it is completely true: On my best day, I am only a B- mother.

But who says that is a bad thing? What makes a mom a perfect mom? Whose opinion matters about that, except your children’s? We all think we are being judged and sometimes we are. I know I’ve been judged, many a time. However, I’m sure I think I am being judged way more than I probably am. Maybe a B- mom isn’t such a horrible thing.

We all share on the Internet what we want too. This was something that Mom 101 was saying in her post. We tell each other what we choose to tell each other. Some are more honest than others. We are given a glimpse at each others lives, because we choose to share about it in this public space. It’s only part of the story really. A small part for most of us.

Let me try this honesty thing for a second.

I, for the record, have never breastfed my children. Not because I see anything wrong with it (in fact, I find it to be beautiful), but because it wasn’t something I felt I could do. I was a young mother, maybe that has something to do with it, maybe not. It just wasn’t something I choose to do.

I sent my daughters to daycare at seven weeks old. I worked fourteen hour days sometimes in the early years of their lives. I know what it’s like to work full time and wish I was at home with my kids. I also now know what it’s like to be at home all the bloody time and wish I was elsewhere. I’m not sure that I’m good at either of it honestly.

My kids watch too much TV; they eat too much junk food; I consider french toast a dinner**; my son hangs out playing with spoons and Tupperware lids on my bed, while I play on the Internet; and some days I go and buy everyone new underwear, just because I don’t want to do laundry.

My kids have ridden their bikes without a helmet a time or two because I got tired of the argument. They have gotten sunburned a few times because I was dumb enough to not put sunscreen on them. We do not have a safety net around our trampoline. I have yelled at them for having meltdowns and then realized I don’t remember the last time they ate. My kids are not friendly when hungry, much less logical.

Somedays I yell at them, because of nothing. I regret those days. Other times they need to be yelled at and I let it go, to try and make up for the days where I yell too much.

My seven year old has way too much knowledge of the Internet and how to use it. My almost five year old can take the parental restriction off of the cable, without even trying. They both have iPods. They know what the menus at most restaurants have on them without needing to look anymore.

My girls are the most unscheduled kids in the neighborhood. In fact the only thing they’ve been scheduled for this summer is swimming and last week, they told me they just wanted to be able to just swim, not learn anything. So? I took them off of the list for the next set of lessons. There is no ballet, no gymnastics and no t-ball this summer. I should do those things, I am sure, but I just can’t seem to make myself sign them up, because truly, then I’d have to get out of the house and take them.

I worry about all of this and much, much more. I wonder what my kids will remember from this time period of their lives. If they will remember that I took them to Disney and the beach this summer; that we slept in, stayed up late and went to the park every few evenings to swing in the dark. Will they remember me reading Harry Potter to them each night? Will they remember Sunday mornings spent in Jammies, having wii bowling and golf tournaments? Or will they remember that this was another summer where I was short with them too often, where I cried too much, where I sent them outside to play too often.

I wonder if they spend too much time at my BFF Kate’s house. I wonder if they will one day prefer her, because she is that mom. The mom who does art projects. The mom who bakes things. The mom with all the patience of a saint. I am not that mom, although I adore that she is. I am thankful for her every single day. Is it okay that my kids spend so much time with my best friend? It has to be, because that’s the way it is right now.

There is no rule book. They didn’t come with an instruction manual. Trust me, I looked. And who says a B- mom is not enough? Who gets to make that judgement call? Who says a C mom isn’t good enough? Because lots of days, I am only a C mom. A solid C even, no plus sign attached.

Some days I think my kids are the amazing people they are despite me. Some days I think it might be in spite of me. On occasion I think, dam I am doing something right.

My girls are kind to friends, strangers, animals and especially their family. They think highly of themselves and each other. Self esteem: they both have it. Self doubt? Yes, they have that too, but a lot less then I did at their ages. They are honest, strong, brave and inquisitive. They are everything I could of hoped for in daughters and everything I hope their brother gets too.

We all have days where we think we are horrible at this parenting gig, right? Those who say other wise are lying threw their over whitened teeth.

I? Am a good mother and also a bad mother. Maybe, I am the good enough mother. But that has to be okay too.

** Okay, here is another thing. We say things on the Internet, then realize that even in a post where we are being brutally honest, we choose to fib a bit. The truth is, my dinner default idea is currently cereal. I stole the french toast thing from my lovely friend Liz (also know as @elizzieh), because it sounded better than saying my family currently lives on cereal. French toast is actually her default dinner, not mine. Liz, who I have to thank for um everything, was kind enough to read this and not yell at me about stealing her idea. In fact had I not brought it up, she is so awesome, that she may never have said a word. See? This honesty thing is hard.

Last night Morgan was arguing with us about bedtime. She is under the impression that she deserves a later bedtime than her sister. Logan and I are not. She’s horrible at getting up every single morning and her sister never is. (Although she can be a pain in the evenings.) When Logan told her that if we were doing it by that, that Bailey would have the later bedtime, she got seriously pissed. “That’s crap”, she said.

Excuse me, what did you just say?

That’s crap, she repeated.

No, freaking way is what I said back to her. You’re not doing that 12 year old attitude in this house. It’s unacceptable and I’m not putting up with it.

Crap, That’s crap, she muttered under her breath, while glaring at me.

I did the only thing I could think of, I pulled her into the bathroom and made her open her mouth and I shoved a small stick of soap in there. Then I set the timer for four minutes, one minute for each time she said crap to me. This is not how you are allowed to behave in my house, I said. You are NOT going to act like those bratty teens you see on Disney. You are 6 years old, not thirteen. Besides that, it’s unacceptable behavior at 13 years old and you’re not going to do it then either. You want to talk to me, like a rational person, fine. You want to come up with a rational argument, fine. But the truth is, after bedtime is mine and daddy’s time. Not yours. Until you are at least ten years old, we’re not having this conversation again. Your bedtime is 8:30pm and you should be happy about it, because I know kids your age who go to bed at 7:30pm. Your opinion matters in this house, I always listen to it and you know this. But at the end of the day, what Daddy and I say, goes. End of story. From here on out, when you cuss, this is what’s going to happen. Also, parental controls are going on Disney channel for the next week. If you can’t act your age and stop giving us teenage attitude, I will call Comcast and have them permanently remove the Disney channel from our TV.

Then I just sat there and picked at the towel for the next two minutes. When the timer went off, I removed the soap from her mouth. Now, do you have anymore smart mouth comments to make.

No Ma’am, she said.

Ok good, now go put your Jammie’s on, brush your teeth and get into bed. I’ll be in to read to you in a few minutes.

As she went up the stairs, I heard her mutter to herself, I’ll never be that mean to my kids. It took everything in me to not laugh hysterically until I got back into the living room. As I told Logan the whole story, we both laughed our asses off at what she’d said. I remember saying the same thing to myself, when it was me with the soap in my mouth. Except I believe my wording was, I’ll never do something so barbaric to my kids, because barbaric was my favorite word in the moment. Logan remembers saying something similar when it was done to him.

Here’s the thing though, it worked. I think I only had to learn that lesson twice. Around my friends, once I was a teen, I cussed. But I was probably 19 freaking years old before I ever cussed around my parents again. Logan thinks he was a bit more hard headed and it took him a few more times to learn this lesson.

It was the only thing I could think to do to her to make my point known. It was the first thing that popped into my head. She is not an easy kid to discipline. She can think of ways around everything. She doesn’t really play with her toys, so it’s not like taking them away would matter. Taking away the wii only matters to her for a few minutes. TV works, but only the first day, because she can entertain herself. I won’t take away jumping on the trampoline or playing outside, because then I’m really grounding myself, plus she needs to get that energy out. So, I did the first thing that came to mind. The thing that I hated as a kid, the thing that I swore up and down I’d never do. Soap in the mouth.

But it worked. She apologized last night and again this morning. She told her sister how horrible it was and that she should never cuss. Some things our parents did and their parents did are not cool. But some of it, dam it’s freaking useful.

But um, hey…do you guys know if I can really have the Disney station removed? I can put parental controls on it and I can leave it on, but if I do it for too long, I have to keep changing the codes, because she messes with it until she breaks it. In this moment, I’m not going to do it, but I need to know if it’s possible. Because I don’t threaten things I’m not willing to follow through on and I think I may have just done that.

So my lovely peeps, have you ever done something to your kids that you swore you’d never do?