Just a Moment...

It started when I came across another mom's blog.

I don't know her or her family in real life, but her pregnancy announcement was so cute that I could barely stand it.

No part of that statement is an exaggeration.

Sonogram pictures followed the pregnancy announcement. Followed by pictures of her older child
s incredibly crafty birthday party. Followed by talk of an absolutely ingenious idea for a gender reveal party.

I had to stop reading. Not only was I was afraid that I was going to click on the next link and see live video streaming of the birth, but I had started to feel rather...inadequate.

But although I had stopped reading, the seed of doubt had already been planted.

Jimmy and I weren't very clever when it came to announcing our pregnancies. In fact, with at least two of them, I waited until I was big enough that people were probably talking about how fat I had gotten. Then I casually slipped it into conversation.

We didn't share our sonogram pictures with anyone other than..well, whoever happened to see it on our fridge. And sadly, a gender reveal party never even occurred to us. I mean, how great would that have been, to have two separate pre-baby parties that were all about us?

Of course, we have had lots of birthday parties at this point. And yet, I have not made the cake for a single one of them. Nor have I ever rented a hall bigger than the one where we had our wedding reception for a child's birthday party.

What is wrong with me?

Obviously, in addition to feeding, clothing, bathing, entertaining, educating, loving, protecting, and stimulating my children, there is a whole lot more that I'm supposed to be doing.

But I'm failing miserably.

Because I suck.

I mean, even on a good day--or at least on what I thought was a good day--it only takes a glance at the wrong Facebook or blog post (no, of course I'm not talking about your Facebook or blog post) to start me second guessing aspects of my parenting.

Who knew I was supposed to take pictures the first time they used the potty?

Or that a house where three or four kids live could look so immaculate in pictures?

Pictures of their first trip to the dentist?

Who knew I was supposed to do that, too?

I was thinking about all of this recently--these perfect parenting moments that seem to be everywhere--as I left the grocery store.

I have never, ever, had a perfect parenting moment at the grocery store.

And probably not anywhere else, either.

This particular day, B was running and screaming through the produce department, as O loudly cheered him on from inside the car cart, which I was struggling to navigate around several large crates of apples. N was walking next to me, trying not to laugh at the chaos that we seem to bring almost everywhere we go these days.

I was trying not to lose my mind.

B almost ran into several people. As I made my way toward him, O screamed for him to run. B screamed back. From across the produce department. I finally grabbed him and turned around just in time to see O pull several apples onto the floor, which of course, to a two year old and his four year old brother, is incredibly funny.

N was trying hard to help me maintain my sanity, and started helping me pick up apples, but she wasn't very successful at hiding her laughter, which of course is contagious. So as N and I picked up apples and began to laugh loudly and inappropriately in the middle of the produce department, B saw his opportunity and took off running--and screaming--once more, with O as his faithful cheerleader.

I couldn't help but think of Jimmy's recent assessment that "One boy is a boy, but more than one boy is a pack of wild animals."

Truer words were never spoken.

Eventually, I got myself together, attempted to ignore the stares of our fellow customers, grabbed B and explained in my very nicest Mean Mommy voice that if he didn't stay with me, hold onto the cart, and keep his mouth closed, there was going to be really big trouble when we got home.

(For the record, I have no idea what that really big trouble would have entailed. But he doesn't know that.).

I was apparently so clear and/or terrifying in my directives that all three of my children immediately lapsed into complete and utter silence, as O sat and stared straight ahead in the car cart, and N and B held onto the cart and walked in perfect time next to me.

We rounded the corner that way, and headed silently to the register as we passed a woman who was issuing her own mommy directives at her four or five year old. She stopped and looked at me, with my three silent, immaculately behaved children holding onto the cart, and said, "Wow. That is impressive".

I laughed maniacally for a moment, before composing myself and saying, "Please don't be impressed. You should have seen us ten seconds ago. You're just seeing a moment."

I started to walk away and added "Really, You have no idea".

One moment.

It doesn't tell us much at all.