As a mother, I'm obligated to be "perfect" in every way. I'm supposed to effortlessly pop out a few kids and miraculously recover and acquire six-pack abs in three months (or less). I must have a career and also manage to spend every minute with my children. Or I must stay at home and throw myself 100 percent into parenting. I'm expected to give up my independence and my identity. But, since I'm not perfect, sometimes I straight up choose to be a bad mom, you guys. I make actual, deliberate choices to be a less-than-perfect mom. A mom who kind of, sort of, sucks.
Now before you banish me from society, know this: I am fine with the way I am. It is my cross to bear, my scarlet letter, my own shame, and I must face the consequences of my actions, whatever those consequences may be. And trust me, I feel guilty (most of the time). Boy do I feel guilty. I feel it when I'm being a good mom too, though, so that never-ending feeling of relentless guil is more like a security blanket than a state of being. And of course, that damn "security blanket" exists because achieving the level of perfection I am supposed to attain, according to the society we live in, is, well, impossible. It's actually physically, emotionally, and psychologically impossible to be a perfect parent. Just think about how conflicting the ideals of perfect parenting are. What one considers perfect, another may consider horrid.
It's impossible to be a perfect mom because that mom is a myth. Guys, she doesn't exist. Mothers are told perfect moms are a thing, but I believe they are like unicorns: a beautiful notion of a mythical being. The ideals are imaginary, created by those who don't achieve that perfection themselves. One cannot be perfect at anything, really. Even great artists consistently reinvent themselves and often fail. Motherhood in itself is imperfect and I'm embracing that by, well, choosing to be a "bad" mom in the following ways: