World’s Okayest Mom
One of my favorite life coaches, Jody Moore, wore a shirt that said World’s Okayest Mom across the front. I loved it so much, and I felt immense gratitude for her perspective about motherhood.
At times, I feel like I am the Wonder Woman of mothers, teaching and nurturing and loving my kids. And there are other times when I am showing up like Gollum from Lord of the Rings. Believing that I am an Okay Mom gives me permission to be both, and to be perfectly content with that.
It was January 2010, and I had a lot going on in my life. I had two kids in school, two little girls at home, and I was pregnant with another baby girl. Landon ran into my bedroom, panicked.
“MOM! I have to have a white t-shirt at school today! We are going to tie-dye them, and I don’t have anything!”
I looked at the clock. School started in 20 minutes, and stores weren’t open yet. I hustled and got all the kids in the car, and we started driving around. Target was closed, Walmart was really far away, and Hobby Lobby didn’t exist in our little neck of the woods. My hopelessness was growing. Suddenly, I spotted a drug store on the corner.
Rite-Aid.
We pulled into the parking lot and ran into the store. I’d never seen shirts at a drug store before, but I was desperate. We looked up and down the aisles, scanning for anything Landon could use. It didn’t look promising.
Finally, in a back corner of the store, on the bottom shelf, was a pile of white t-shirts. They weren’t folded nicely in stacks, or even hung up. They looked like someone had thrown their laundry in the corner and left. Regardless, I started digging around, looking for the smallest size I could find.
Adult small. That was the smallest size. Landon was six.
I bought the shirt and got the kids to school, on time. Landon had his white t-shirt, the crisis had been averted, and I felt a huge sigh of relief. I had delivered. I moved forward, and I didn’t give that shirt another thought.
In March, I got an invitation to a performance by the first graders. I love school performances, so I was excited. The designated day arrived, and I walked in with my little girls. I saw one boy wearing tie-dye…
NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO.
I watched in horror as the entire first grade entered, and there was Landon…in his tie-dye “dress” from Rite-Aid. He was holding it up around his waist, but as the singing started and the choreography began, the shirt unrolled…and unrolled…and unrolled.
I tried to pay attention, but I was oscillating between utter humilition and fits of uncontrollable laughter. Poor Landon.
See? World’s Okayest Mom.
Now, I still try to be the best mother I can each day, but I know that my best has Gollum and Wonder Woman. Being an Okay Mom isn’t an insult, it’s a liberation. Try it on. You may like it, too.
