My daughter: A Perfectly, Imperfect Mom?!

Today I learned: I am perfectly imperfect, and that’s ok.

My kids and “Grandson” (Mason) This weekend my 14 year old daughter brought home Mason. Mason was my grandson for the weekend. He cried, and cooed, and needed to be fed and burped and his neck needed to be supported because his neck is not quite developed yet. Except Mason isn’t really a newborn.

Mason is a robotic baby that my daughter received as part of her Human Growth and Development course to learn about caring for a baby. You see, my daughter wants to be a teacher. This means her high school courses are designed to prepare her for college and her eventual career as a teacher. Understanding Human Growth and the lifecycle is an important part of that.

She named him. And she cared for him all weekend. When he woke up wanting a bottle in the middle of the night she got up to feed him. She burped him and rocked him when he got fussy. She was a great care giver to Mason. Even though her sleep was interrupted and using a car seat is difficult, she did awesome. Mason Cole Skrove

However, all her “skills” were probably a combination of conditioning as a girl, her class teachings, and maybe a little bit from me. So, it’s not really that surprising. It’s also good because Mason will generate a report for her teacher when he is returned on how well Allie cared for him.

There were a couple times she couldn’t tend to the baby. We were driving and he needed to be changed. She said she would just note it in her journal so the teacher would know. There was a time she was feeding him and bumped his neck with her arm. She said she would just make a note. Another time when she was in the car he needed to eat. Again, she said she would make a note.

She was nonchalant. Casual. Calm. She was not worried about these things affecting her grade. These were things out of her control.

Like almost everyone, I always want to be a better parent. I want to do more and be more for them. I want to give them the world and I want the best for them.

And… how many times have I graded myself too harshly? How many times have I allowed OTHERS to grade me too harshly? If I were to write down all the times my kids did not receive immediate gratification from me, would I be able to be ok with the findings? Would I be able to remain confident in my parenting knowing that…well, I am a perfectly imperfect parent. And that’s ok. I love my kids, and it does not change my status as a pretty awesome Mom.

Allie, thank you for reminding me, especially at this time of the year, it’s ok to be a loving, although immensely imperfect, Mom. You are so smart.

-Stupid Mom


Slime Farts are the Best Medicine

LaughterMay 28, 2017

Today I learned that laughter is the best medicine.

It has been a long time since I wrote about my genius children.  They really are so smart. Today was no different than any day, in that there isn’t a day that goes by they do not  teach me SOMETHING about living life to its fullest.  Today,  I felt compelled to blog it.  I feel a little rusty at this…but I have incredible inspiration. So here goes nothing…

Life has been full of changes over the last year.  Lots of adjustments and the stresses sometimes leave me feeling sub-par.   This weekend is a long weekend, and I am so grateful for it.  I have been pushing through a headache that settled in on Friday afternoon. Today is Sunday and I woke up still fighting it.  Although,  I think I did the mommy thing fairly well without going all “psycho mom” on them.  We have had some fun since Friday.  Cool.

So feeling a bit stressed, wanting to have a fun and relaxing weekend, AND battling a headache I was dreading what was about to happen.  Allie left with a friend and so I did something against my better judgment…I asked the boys to clean out the trash and papers from the truck.  This seems like such a normal request, I know.  However,  my boys seem to have this radar behind their ears that if mom is struggling to stay upbeat and battle a headache,  their little alert system goes off and tells them this is an opportunity to make life difficult.  I was expecting screams.  Crying.  Fighting.  The famous “NO!!!!” that my Simon is known for lately.  To my surprise,  nothing.  They just… did it.  They did it.  Like normal, well-behaved,  sweet little angelic boys.

Testing my luck,  I asked Simon to take out the trash.  Done. I asked Anthony to take out the recycling…Oh wait,  here is another piece of cardboard…and wait, come back — another aluminum can.  Done.  No fighting, only a slight eye roll when I kept finding more recycling, but in the playful manner that Tony has perfected.  Mom is 3-0.  SWEET.

While I am making dinner I get a request “Can we make slime?”  To which I reply,  “maybe  later,  I am making dinner right now.” Met with: “How about after dinner?” and “Yeah, mom!  We don’t have school tomorrow.”   My response, “Maybe,  but it might be tomorrow” is met with resounding disappointed groans.

I ask them to clear the table for dinner.  Without a second request, they do it before going back to their intense wrestling match in the living room.  I don’t know who is winning, they both are laughing and screaming in agony at the same time.

We eat. And it was good.

And then…a mom who has been given nothing but love all day can only do one thing, and one thing only. It is the thing that MUST be done.  Make slime.

So we make slime.

Its awesome.

Pinterest WIN.

Then… I have to teach them how to squish into a cup to make it “fart.” I  mean, I HAVE to


All I see is necks

– its my adult responsibility to pass this type of knowledge down to younger generations. Suddenly,  slime goes next level.  They are laughing so hard, all i see is their necks.  I start to wonder if they have hinged heads or something, because I have never in my life seen heads fly backwards in laughter that far and that much in my life.  A mom with two laughing boys and farting slime cannot be a serious mom.  Its not humanely possible NOT to laugh.  So of course,  now the three of us spend the next 15 minutes laughing at slime farts, seeing who can produce the grossest, loudest and funniest.  Pretty sure I won.

Life is still stressful.  Adjustments are still difficult.  But my headache is gone.  And 4 hours later… they are still playing with their slime making it fart…and I am still smiling.

Today, my boys, Simon and Anthony,  taught me that laughter is really the best medicine.  In spite of external circumstances beyond my control,  I still have control of this big space that dwells inside me.  I can still choose to enjoy, laugh…and make slime farts.

Thank you, Simon and Anthony.  You are so smart.  (I can’t wait for you to show your sister when she gets home tomorrow.)

–Stupid Mom