My kids have no delusions about me being a perfect mother. Dishes slip from my fingers just as easily as parent-teacher conference dates slip from my mind. I make mistakes just as readily as I forgive theirs.
I’m OK with this. In fact, I’m glad about it. I want them to understand that no one, not even their mother, is perfect. So, if they hear me slip out an occasional swear word, or if they have to suffer through a dinner of mushy pasta, or cringe watching me trip over my too-high heels, or even miss a karate class here and there because I just can’t get my act together, it will only serve to make our relationship more authentic.
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