I am a bad mom.  I have chosen to embrace this part of me rather than attempt to conform to an insanely outdated stereotype of what a “good mom” should be.

What makes me a bad mom? The list is long but distinguished.  If you were to ask my kids they would tell you (in detail) stories such as the one time I accidentally shaved off my middle-child’s eyebrow before a theater performance.  Or the time I rolled her head up in a car window (in my defense she is not a dog, I did not think to look for her head when I started rolling up the window).  But what really makes me a bad mom is my inability to fake being a “good mom”.

The “good moms” sit perfectly calm awaiting their turn at parent teacher conferences.  I sit there looking fantastically guilty awaiting the impending onslaught of mortifying stories and embarrassing questions.  The “good moms” beam at the perfection that is their offspring during orchestra performances  while quietly shaking their heads in disgust because one of the violinists is picking her nose on stage…and eating it.  The little nose picker is my child, completely oblivious to the 200 people watching in fascinated horror with their cameras rolling.   Maybe if I stopped waving my arms over my head in an attempt to break her laser focus on the finger that resides two knuckles deep in her nasal cavity, and just mimicked everyone around me, no one would know it was my kid.  But my cover would be blown after the concert when she ran into my arms for a big hug, so why bother pretending?

Like I said, I can’t fake it.  I know my kids are flawed, that’s part of why I love them.  I’m tired of making excuses.  Instead, I am just going to own it.  I am a bad mom and my kids are special and unique little snowflakes.

That being said, do not for a second think I am the kind of mom that dotes on her children.  As a matter of fact, I am the opposite. Which is another reason I am a bad mom.  Every book or article I have ever read talks about being firm with children and the importance of setting clear boundaries and expectations.  Yet somehow the majority of my daughters’ friends are a**holes.  The kids I see in the store are like tiny drunk people just running amuck, and God forgive me for saying this, but there are more fat kids than non-fat kids at my girls’ schools.  I know we’re not supposed to say these things but I seriously can’t fake it anymore!

I am a bad mom because I scold my kids in public.  I correct them daily with zero care as to who sees me do it.  I tell them not to run in the store.  I make them lower their volume when they are shouting instead of speaking with an indoor voice and I force them to eat vegetables.  I know they don’t like healthy foods.  I know they would rather eat Cheetos or McDonalds and I know my life would be a hell of a lot easier if I did not have to debate vegetable consumption every night.  But I am a bad mom and I do not care what they want.  They need to learn good habits because someday soon they will be able to make their own decisions.

(I am constantly in awe of the crazy things I say as a result of having children.  For example, “don’t put your mouth on a raccoon” is a sentence I have actually uttered.  It is important that I instill in them proper values because honestly you don’t know where that raccoon has been).

I am also a bad mom because I stayed in an abusive relationship.  They saw and heard more than they ever should.  I am a bad mom because I stayed and I’m a bad mom because I left.  I stayed because I thought it was important for them to have their parents together.  But I was miserable and stressed and angry about everything.

Now, I’m free and happy and calm.  I’m a happy bad mom, which is better than a miserable bad mom.

I am a bad mom because I have tattoos and I dye my daughters’ hair crazy colors.  I am a bad mom because I punish my oldest by taking away the Complete Works of Edgar Allen Poe when I catch her reading it at 11pm on a school night.  I am a bad mom because I think letting a first grader wear shoes with a heel is irresponsible and giving a fourth grader a smartphone is idiotic.  I am a bad mom because I think “blooper” pictures are better then posed pictures.  I am a bad mom because my oldest was a closeted nose picker/eater until her grand “coming out” performance and because after shaving off my middle-child’s eyebrow, I lied and told her “your bangs will cover it”.  I am a bad mom because I have honestly had to tell my child not to put her mouth on a raccoon and because I used the word “fat” to accurately describe a large percentage of my kid’s classmates. (Calling them a**holes just makes me a jerk.)

I am a bad mom because I'm tired of pretending to be a "good mom"