Feeling Like I'm a Good Mom

A few weeks ago someone asked me what makes me truly, deeply, down-in-my-soul happy and I answered without hesitation, "Feeling like I'm a good mom." As he was asking how often that happened, I picked up a piece of cheese off the floor, added it to a grilled cheese sandwich cooking on the stove without even pretending to wipe it off, poured more wine and said, “Not as often as you might think.”


Just yesterday, Ben brought home cookbooks from his dad's house hoping I would use them… you know… to cook things besides grilled cheese, hot dogs, quesadillas and pasta. I very quickly checked his temperature and pupil dilation because I’ve heard that high fevers and concussions could cause confusion. And evidently this child had confused me with a whole other kind of mom. (The kind who probably always feels like she’s a good mom.)

But then something happened this morning that made me feel as though I must be doing something right, even if it isn’t in the areas of cleanliness, germ control, (sobriety) or nutrition. My dear friend and fellow Boozy Mommy, Suzanne, has a daughter Lucy adores. The girls are the best of friends and they go back and forth between our houses having sleepovers regularly. And the older of Suzanne’s boys enjoys spending the night here as well. But Ben (being Ben) does not usually want to spend the night with a friend. In fact, the only two times he has ever had a sleepover at a friend’s house have been at Suzanne’s. One of those times was last night.

This morning when Suzanne and I traded our kids back (I had two of hers) she told me what a dreamboat Ben was to have over. Having three kids of her own, she was somewhat bewildered by his, (1) getting ready for bed without being asked (including teeth-brushing), (2) remembering they had left the jam in the car and asking her to bring it in (he had the forethought to ask what kind of jam they had for toast in the morning, and not liking their selection, brought his own), (3) not protesting bedtime or demanding any special bedtime rituals (“Just turn the light out, please, Suzanne.”), (4) being up, dressed and eating breakfast with her husband before she got back from her morning run, and (5) even going so far as to ask where he should put away the mat and blanket she had given him to sleep on.

This morning I was reminded that, generally speaking, I’m raising polite, gracious, helpful kids who people genuinely like to be around (mostly). Maybe I’m doing better at this “being a good mom” thing than I thought.

And there’s still time to introduce them to vegetables, right?