"With four kids, you're an experienced expert," schoolyard moms often tell me. But honestly, I wouldn't bet on it. I'm no primal mom. I admit it: I sometimes prioritize myself. After giving too much, I think, "Me, myself, and I!" Sloppy mom (loedermoeder) suits me better.
I envy women who selflessly drop everything for their kids. I can't— not always, anyway. Plus, I'm not practical enough for primal motherhood; I often realize too late that things need fixing.
A true sloppy mom discovers after two months that sneakers are way too small. Treats? Chips or ice cream. I only notice ice cream's a bad idea at 34°C when the kids are covered in melted mess up to their armpits.
So I admire those moms crafting elaborate, creative treats—one wilder than the next. They must've risen at dawn for 26 fruit pizzas, right?
Fun as it is, I'm relieved when my packed schedule eases up.
"Tonight's goulash with beef," one mom announces. Another chimes in that it simmers eight hours (sans slow cooker) and adds, "Love it," beaming.
Me? Oven fries and a jar of Hak. Easy when fresh peas get whined about after a long workday—"I really don't like this!" No thanks.
Toddlers challenge me more than teens. With adolescents, WiFi and phones are essentials; meet those, and you're golden as a sloppy mom. No primal perfection needed. Threaten the phone? Instant compliance.
But with my little one, threats fall flat: a casual "Well, no," rolls out. Sweets spark real drama, though. Deny chips on Saturday, and a teen yells from the couch, "No chips? That's child abuse!"
-x-
Ievy
Shutterstock photo of mother and child by Nomad_Soul
