I have always been a perfectionist. I guess it comes with being the oldest child, especially growing up in a family that tried to maintain a wonderful outward appearance while crumbling apart on the inside. I've carried that legacy, or should I say bondage, right into my own family. I have never felt so inadequate as the day a nurse handed me my newborn son, and I looked at him and literally thought "Now what am I supposed to do with this?" You would think that ten years later and with another child under my belt, I'd feel equal to the task of mothering. But I still struggle with my mommy alter-ego. You know, the one who shows up to point out everything you're doing wrong. She keeps me down and focused on how NOTHING I do measures ... Read More...

So often there is a disconnect between the mom I am, and the mom I want to be. Or make that the mom I think I ought to be. A lot of times, I feel like Julia Roberts' character Isabel in the movie Stepmom. In the opening scene, Isabel is frantically trying to get her live-in boyfriend's two children ready for school. She struggles with making them breakfast, getting them dressed, and even finding the youngest child, who has hidden himself in one of the kitchen cabinets. She has a moment of panic when she realizes that she hasn't washed the daughter's shirt for Purple Shirt Day, and as she suggests that the girl just wear orange instead, she's met with eye rolling and obvious disdain. Then in the middle of all this chaos their real mom ... Read More...