Like all of you, I had it all figured out...before I was a mom.
My child would not watch much TV, play with an iPad, eat anything horrible like Goldfish, have tantrums in public, or have a runny nose that wasn't dealt with. I simply wouldn't stand for it.
Then, he arrived...and became a toddler.
I've been extremely vocal in my motives for my reasons for wanting to start this blog and one was for a place that moms and dads could go and NOT be judged for the choices that they made.
My son is a boy in every stereotypical way possible. He loves to get dirty, loves trucks, firemen, sports, and blocks. He loves throwing things, climbing on things, and being a massive daredevil. He is the biggest adventurer I have ever met and I pray he NEVER loses that! Last week, we went to a impromptu concert in the park. I questioned taking him at all, but knew he needed action as the crazed pace of my week had kept him from playing outside as much as he should. I dressed him in a cute outfit since we were "just going to see a music show." We met up with friends and decided it was such a nice day, we should go play at the park. All was well until my child saw two other children sitting in a huge dirt pile driving trucks. There was no distracting him! He jumped right in and stayed long after those kids left. He was FILTHY! Throwing dirt, eating dirt, laughing his ass off, and having the time of his life. My friends and I laughed along with him and I snapped pictures.
When I finally deemed that it was time to go, I carried him over near our stroller with outstretched arms and began to take off his shirt, pants, shoes and socks to walk him home without the disgusting clothes and give him a wipe "bath" until we got home for a proper one. On our walk to the stroller, FOUR moms gave me disgusted looks like my child was about to infect their kids and that I was the worst mother in the history of mothers. Apparently, their children never get dirty...or have fun!
It was then that I realized, what I thought was a being a good mom (see my first sentence) is all wrong. Being a good mom is giving your child freedom to be a child. To explore. To have fun. To get the "good clothes" dirty. And, to make memories. I hope one day, my son looks back and says, "My mom let me do crazy and fun things and I had the best childhood ever!" If his memories involve the organic cheddar bunnies and freshly ironed shirts, I consider that a failure!