Good Mom, Bad Mom

One time, my neighbor stopped by to give me something. In these times of internet-everythinging, visits are not such a common occurrence. She caught us right when we’d returned from the grocery store and all the children were enjoying a fruit pie snack.

She made some comment about how I was “such a fun mom” to let them eat the sugar-glazed, berry-filled, envelope of sugar. She was surprised, thinking I was usually strict about the kids’ diets.

I am strict, because I don’t want them to develop diabetes or -more likely- hyperactivity.

HOWEVER, every kid needs to try a snack pie. I also buy them weird Oreo flavors or chocolate Lucky Charms or Twinkie Weiner Sandwiches -randomly, to try once. This makes me a good mom.

Then, at bedtime, exasperation sets in. I’m sarcastic, rude, stressed, unkind, impatient, and loud about trying to get them in bed. I’m even worse when they will not STAY in bed.

At times like that, I’m bad mom.

“Let’s go to insert random location,” I say, and we pile into the car and drive to IKEA, the world’s largest Costco, the Pepperidge Farm outlet, a splash pad, a park, or a relative’s house.

The children smile and get along. They love the spontaneity and their happy maternal parent. Things are good.

But, sure enough, all good things must come to an end.

“Time to go,” I say. I say it again, and again. I threaten, snap, threaten, pick up shoes, pick up boys, deny “last times,” and ask them if they really need to go to the bathroom if they went when we first arrived.

Bad mom’s back, and she means business.

I feel a bit torn. Am I good mom, or bad? I’d really rather be firm but loving, but that fantastical plan flies out the window the instant they shoot me point-blank with a Nerf gun.

Does anyone else relate? What can we do?