what it means to be the mother of All

The mother of all storms. The mother of all excuses. Wherever there's a problem, the biggest and baddest is the mother of all.

And as a mother of a handful of kids, that mother is me. Whether you've forgotten your homework or your lunch, whether you've not gotten enough sleep or enough play time with your same-age peers, whether you've put the time in on your trumpet or your math facts, your mother is to blame. Or so she often thinks, because that's mostly true.

The ideal mom is loving and kind, and super organized, dependable and consistent. In addition, I wanted to be like the mother in Wrinkle in Time, a violet-eyed scientist who cooked dinner on the bunsen burner so she wouldn't have to leave the lab. There must be less than 50 words about her in the book, but she made a bigger impression on me than the tesseract. Because that was a mother I could relate to, the rock-star version of the mother I could imagine becoming, even when I was 10.

I didn't imagine being the mom who forgot to wash our socks.

I'm not dependable or consistent at home, at least, not naturally so. And yet I procreated anyway. This is my blog.