Today marks the 14th birthday I have had the privilege to spend as Scary Mommy’s significant other. I still fondly remember that first birthday together: two kids so intoxicated with new, young love that it didn’t matter that we were underage and unable to toast the occasion. Oh, how much I thought I knew about Jill then, after just 10 months! I can unequivocally say now that I hardly knew her at all.

What I love most about birthdays is that they allow you to take stock of the events of one year: the good and the bad, the extraordinary and the ho-hum. Having celebrated every birthday together since we were 18, I’ve also come to view birthdays as an opportunity to recollect what I’ve learned about my darling wife over the previous 365 days. For instance, that first year after Jill was diagnosed with Level III Melanoma, I discovered that courage was at the core of her being. I also learned that she has a crazy-high tolerance for pain that, to this day, makes me look as masculine as Tinker Bell glowing at night.

Since then I’ve learned about the vehemence of her heart and the veracity of her eyes, the taste of her tears and the strength of her mind.

But it’s what I’ve learned over the past year that deserves recognition today here on this blog: the girl is a writer! The irony is hard to ignore. As students, Jill explicitly designed her class schedule around the likelihood of having to write papers, avoiding the words “term paper” like most people avoid a fallen bar of soap in a jailhouse shower. Me, on the other hand, I was a literature major with a focus in creative writing. I used to practice iambic pentameter for fun! I fantasized about a writing career that would afford me a generous salary and the freedom to work from home.

The time I’ve spent writing has dwindled over the years, as the demands of my career in public relations have taken precedence and the joy of spending time with my three children dictates my “free time” activities. Meanwhile, the once word-phobic Scary Mommy has smartly turned her homemaker gig into a career as a confessional author and domestic lifestyle satirist. She has the joy (and, admittedly, at times, the burden) of staying home with our kids and chronicling their days and nights on this blog. Through her witty writing, self-deprecating humor, and keen observations, Jill has done in just over one year what many more experienced writers fail to ever do: connect. All you have to do is read the comments (I read every one) to see that Jill has built a true community of men and women—young and old—from all parts of the globe, who turn to Scary Mommy to laugh, to learn, and most importantly, to connect. That’s the impact every writer dreams of.

So, on this special day, I celebrate a wonderful wife, mother, and author—a woman whose considerable talents continue to reveal themselves year after year. Happy Birthday, love.

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Being gone for two weeks, I asked some of my favorite bloggy friends to help fill in for me. I suggested that they they might share some “scary mommy moments,” to create a theme among posts. To me, that meant those moments where you feel imperfect, unfit and downright… scary. They interpreted it as their scariest moments as a mom. Duh. Of course they did. Clearly, the problem was me and I suck at communicating. Which is why I blog. Alone. Not wanting to frighten you all with two weeks of heart stopping parenting tales, I’m sharing a past favorite of mine by Kate of The Big Piece of Cake. Kate is lovely and funny and you need to be reading her if you aren’t already. And I’m also enrolling in some communication classes. Obviously, I  need them.

I have a running list in my head of things that fall under the “what not to do” category of motherhood. Not that I’m saying I’m a bad mother. I do many things well. I’ve had uncounted triumphs, moments of genius and mental high fives. But I often fall short as well. At the very least I’ve had to look at myself from time to time and say “not your personal best, Kate.” Here are some examples:

1. I’m that mom who lets my three year old eat Goldfish crackers for breakfast when we’re in a rush – because “it’s just easier that way.”

2. I’m that mom who allows my nudist children run around in underwear all day as long as they stay inside (although I sometimes have to retrieve them from the front lawn).

3. I’m that mom who doesn’t even bother trying to force my kids to eat vegetables at dinner anymore. They eat them for lunch with that magical woman at daycare – so that takes some of the pressure off.

4. I’m that mom who lets my toddlers believe that Tic Tacs are “candy” and that they’re a BIG TREAT. They will find out about Reeces soon enough.

5. I’m that mom who accidentally locked myself and my twins IN my three year old’s bedroom with him on the outside (you can click to read what happened but if not, don’t worry, we all made it out without tragedy).

6. I’m that mom who hoisted my three year old over a chain link fence rather than walk a mile carrying him while his “accident” soaked through my shirt. More on that one another day…

7. I’m that mom who sometimes skips every other page of the longer bedtime stories because I’m tired and hungry for my own dinner which is at that very moment sitting on the kitchen counter getting cold.

8. I’m that mom who may know the children are doing something in the other room that I expressly told them NOT to do, but pretend I don’t see it so I don’t have to deal with it.

9. I’m that mom who will yell at my children and then hug them and tell them how “good” they are. Just to stay consistent…with the inconsistency.

10. I’m that mom who let my three year old grab all of the tampons that fell out of my purse onto the floor of the car – just because it was easier to let him have them than to try to take them away. Then I had to fight him to get them back once we arrived at the grocery store and I discovered that he had systematically opened each of them and ripped them to pieces. THEN I had to explain everything to my husband when he arrived home with wads of cotton clenched in his hands. Yeah…that was me…

11. I’m that mom who threatens my three year old with naps even though he hasn’t napped in over six months and I have no intention of following through.

12. I’m that mom who will finally break down and offer my children candy if it will make them submit to my will.

13. I’m that mom who will bring my kids out to run errands before cleaning the magic marker off of their arms and legs.

14. I’m that mom who says I won’t let my kids taste raw cookie dough because “it’s not good for them” – when what I really mean is that I’m afraid that they’ll find out that it is in fact, much better raw. Then I eat some when they’re not looking.

15. I’m that mom who will let my toddlers play with things they shouldn’t (i.e. our cell phones, the dishwasher, the clean laundry, toothpicks) because I’d rather have them be happy and quiet than screaming while I try to assert my authority.

16. I’m that mom who will wait until Monday morning to realize that I have no clean school clothes for my son and then madly search through the dirty clothes for something that can pass for clean.

17. I’m that mom who will trick her son into leaving the (dreaded) pet store by saying, “I bet John and Cheyenne [John's dog] will be out playing ball when we get home.” I’d rather deal with the consequences of that later in my own house where it doesn’t smell like gerbil poop.

18. As a continuation of #17, I’m that mom who will let her son believe that we are going to the park or the pet store, when we are actually going to Target or daycare. I don’t TELL him that we’re going where he thinks we are – I just don’t tell him that we’re NOT. So it’s not a lie as much as an omission. Right?

19. I’m that mom who answers my daughter’s thousands of calls for “MOMMY!” with “ELEANOR!” instead of just saying, “what is it honey?” And then she answers my “ELEANOR!” with another “MOMMY!” And because I find this incredibly entertaining I just continue the cycle until we end up enacting a personalized game of Marco-Polo. Except we’re not in a pool. And she knows exactly where I am.

20. I’m that mom who believes that ice cream is the solution for everything. For my children – and myself.

What kind of mom are YOU?

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