WORST MOM EVER

I’m not normally one to brag, but I received an award today. It was dropped from the top of the stairs where our eight year old daughter resides. Like an autumn leaf, it softly fluttered and floated, landing perfectly at my feet. Precious.

I bent down to pick it up, expecting the usual, “i am sory for havin a bad aditude” or the famous, “Londyn loves mom and dad and wants to come downstairs now.” Instead, I found the first certificate of achievement I’ve earned since my college days:

Worst. Mom. Ever.

Actually, it said “Worst mom! Ever!” which is even more impressive (not to toot my own horn or anything). It’s like she started out by just giving me the ‘worst mom’ label, but then decided to up it by tacking ‘ever’ onto the end. Not only am I currently the worst mom living on this lovely blue planet today, but I’m actually the worst ever. Past, present, and future–I tagged ’em and bagged ’em all in one day.

How did I go about earning such an award, you ask? I have to tell you, it didn’t come easily.  It took plenty of effort and training, but it really paid off in the end. My steps to success looked something like this:

1.  Plan for a lemonade stand on the same day as the neighborhood yard sale (because an unnamed eight year old said that’s the ‘best day ever‘ to have a lemonade stand)

2. Visit my absolute least favorite store (okay…so we know where she gets her extremism) to purchase items for said lemonade stand.

3. Prepare treats for the lemonade stand after being told the customers will be hungry.

4. Stay up late saran-wrapping said treats for famished lemonade stand customers.

5. Wake up at ungodly o’clock to set up lemonade stand (whilst same unnamed eight year old lies in my warm bed).

6. Run inside searching for quarters when lemonade customers are only packing large bills. Bless their little souls.

7. Supervise lemonade stand while it’s mini manager runs across the street with her friend to check out a yard sale (because everyone wants to purchase lemonade from a full-grown human on the side of the road).

8. Begin to feel raindrops and let the incredible hubby and brother in-law close up shop.

And finally, the kicker…

9.  Let the precious little muffin cup know that, although she has fresh lemonade dough burning a hole in her pocket, we will not be able to visit more yard sales because it’s now raining like cats and dogs my favorite scene in The Notebook and everyone is closing early.

And just like that, I was nominated for the prize. The gold was in step number 9.

What really drove me to the top, the clincher you could say,  was when I sent her to her room after hearing, “This is the worst day…(you guessed it) EVER.” It was just a few minutes later that the award was bestowed upon me like manna from heaven.

And it made me smile.

Now don’t get me wrong, there are plenty of days where this would have crushed me or put me over the top. And, let not your minds be troubled, I won’t encourage her actions by letting her know I’m smiling. We will talk with her about being grateful and not using words to hurt others and how you’re only supposed to use one exclamation point per sentence and ALL the things. But for right now, I’m just letting it make me smile.

Because I know she’s confident that a silly little note won’t make me stop loving her.

Because I know she doesn’t mean it.

Because I know she’ll be down here in a few minutes to hug me and tell me she doesn’t mean it.

Because underneath all that fire and fight is the sweetest little heart I’ve ever met. Ever.

Because today I’m remembering that my identity isn’t found in being her mom but that I find my identity in the One who knit her together.

Because if you’re going the be the worst at something, you might as well fight for the ever at the end.

 

Much Love,

WME