World's Worst Mother?

My mum always wore Bonds Cottontails.  100% cotton, full coverage, pastel colours.
My 2yr old spawnette came into my room this morning sporting her Dora underpants in a massive wedgie.  "Look! Just like you Mum!"  I laughed and laughed, all the time thinking 'I'm the world's worst mother!'.  Needless to say, I never wear cottontails, but it got me to thinking.  Why would I think that my choice in underwear could affect my performance as a mother?
  Media, internet, my own childhood, social groups - everywhere there are stories and images about what a good mother is, what she sounds like, what she dresses like, what she does in her spare time.  It can be very difficult stick your head over the parapet and say "NO!"  I'll do what I like, and I AM a good mum.  I don't think being a good mum is about always succeeding.  I don't always succeed in being calm, in being fair, in being creative, in serving edible vegetables.  I'm not a superhero.  But, I try to listen when they complain about something, I let them show me pieces of dirt in the yard, I try to take them outside somewhere to play even when I think its boring and I can't be bothered.
   I love them, and I'm trying.
For more musings on motherhood, check out this post about the simple things, and this excellent and intelligent blog.

Shadows

My life is an autumn day of darkness and light.
  This morning I awoke naturally after a whole night of undisturbed sleep!  I went into the spawns' lair where they were quietly awake in their beds.  We sat in bed and made shadow animals on the wall with a torch, we laughed at someone's dinosaur, we waved the torch around like a little disco, we shushed each other because Daddy was still asleep.

In the moments of darkness, I scream too much.  Trying to brush my teeth, someone grabbing everything to throw in the bath, banging my nobbly elbow, someone crying and pulling on my clothes.  Trying to go out, someone's taken their shoes off again, someones pooed in their pants again, someones standing on a biscuit on the loungroom carpet, someones scratched someones face, someones got Daddy's glasses.

Bushman's Biscuits, baked with all the leftover little bits of dried fruits, nuts and chocolate from the pantry.  Delicious!  But the spawn don't like them.  They will when they're teenagers.  I hope I become a mother of teenagers.  I am very aware that my present is their past.  I hope they remember the moments of light, and forget the dark.