What's Your Dirty Little Secret?

As mothers we take advantage of every opportunity to brag about our children: Plastering their faces on our key chains, our facebook's and our own living room walls.  We hail each accomplishment as if it deserved a nobel peace prize. "Johnny made peepee on the potty!"... "Suzie got a goal!!!!" ..."Joey just said [the funniest thing!]"

 What we are not so quick to brag about are those mothering moments which I find myself sneering at when another parent does it.  "Oh my God, I cannot believe that child is still in a stroller - or worse - not in a stroller! Or behaving a certain way in a restaurant or department store. Or dressed like a street walker at four years old while simultaneously being breast fed. However disciplined or undisciplined a child or parent may be - I am guilty of passing judgement:  If it were me, or my child, "that" would never happen. Whether or not I have 'been there' before-  I am judging each mother and child interaction I see. In my arsenal of experience I have a reasonable solution to everyone else's problem.

 Except for my own: When my child is running away from me at Target and I consider letting him go - if only for a moment's peace. Or when I have thrown bottles or toys or anything i can get my hands on clear across a room if only to avoid throwing my own child. I don't judge myself.  And I have no solution - at least not any reasonable one. I do, however,  find validation in almost all of my parental shortcomings - if only for the time being.  "'I am only pouring gatorade into my 11 month old's bottle because it will keep him quiet in church.' Or 'my three year old will only fall asleep if i take him for a 30 mile drive. Besides, I get a much needed cup of coffee and some time to think."  I have bribed and cursed and punished and begged my children when all else has failed and I can no longer fight the good fight.  And I find myself despising mothers who wear make up and go to the gym- or glaring at the ogling hand-holders who obviously don't have kids to telepathically will them to bare children- then they'll  be as  miserable.

And then the rare occasion: when you are trying to peal your child off of the bannister at Barnes & Noble and another mother is pleading with her 2 year old to get a neighboring child's foot out of his mouth -  it happens. You make eye contact and exchange a brief look of understanding that says, "I know. You are not alone." And for no good reason, you reach for your coffee to cover the tears which stream uncontrollable down your cheeks.  Never minding the looks of misbelief coming from behind the counter  or the toppled over display left in your wake.  How the hell did it get this hard?

Mothering is impossible on most days. So we take short cuts. We buy frozen vegetables, and bottled juice. We turn the TV on and use a microwave. I have let my 3 1/2 year old drink milk out of a bottle until 2 nights ago because it was easier than arguing with her. And bed time is so important to me. That's my dirty little secret. I have gone great lengths to hide this fact: cropping photos,  using secret languages that meant "milky bottles" in front of others, hiding the evidence when company arrived. Why? Because  for some reason shame and fear over take me: that I am not the mother that I thought I would be, certainly not the mother my sister is, (hopefully not the mother my mother was.)  So it's out there. Worst mother in the world? Nah.  But am I alone? Or are there others like me who hush their children when they inadvertently rat us out for being less than Perfect.  What's your dirty little secret? Mom?