According to my son I am one heck of a terrible mommy. The worst mom in the world in fact. At least that was what he told me this afternoon, just after I hosted a 3.5 hour post kindergarten play-date at our house and made the kids chocolate chip cookies from scratch.
I suppose I sound like a cliche, but will he ever realize just how good he has it? How freaking awesome I am? Hello, if I hadn't taken the initative he would have had zero play-dates with his kindergarten pals, as I seem to be the only mom willing to invite the munchkins over. Does he remember the baseball/Penguins of Madagascar themed birthday I threw for him and twenty of his buddies? That's right. He insisted on a dual themed party. Baseball. Penguins of Madagascar. Of course! But we did it, and it was fantastic.
Do I get him no less than three types of cereal and two types of berries for his daily "berry blast" breakfast? Why yes I do.
Do I wash his dirty bed linens every single day, because he wets through his pull ups at six years old? You bet!
Do I go to every single crappy animated-rated G movie that comes out? Uh-huh. I even buy the over-priced "kids" pack.
Do I engage in a power struggle over the hideous "graphic T-shirts" he insists on wearing instead of my mother's hand-knit sweaters? Nope. I let him wear what he wants to.
Maybe we should forget about Friday's "Spaghetti Night" at the elementary school. Personally I would prefer sushi. And Sunday's Harvest Festival? Yeah, I'm thinking lattes and The New York Times. How does that sound kid? You want bad? Damn, I can show you bad.
But I'm a good mommy and I love you. Even if you don't yet quite get it.