The Meanest Mommy in the World

So I know I'm all about not judging moms and trusting them to do the best they can, and also not judging yourself too harshly, and knowing everything will work out in the end, but.

I think I'm the meanest mommy in the world today.

I slept poorly, I'm stressed about a whole list of things that are all ganging up on me, and Penny knows D and I are going out to dinner tonight so she's been super duper clingy all morning.  And whiny.  And demanding that we do art together, and makeup together, and that I put her clothes on her.  None of these things are terrible hardships for a mother, but for me, today, this morning, I just want her to amuse herself with her crayons, let me put on my makeup in peace, and practice putting her clothes on herself, which she knows how to do, but refuses.  So she literally follows me around the apartment, crying "mommy I want you to take care of me!" and I'm such a mean mommy that I say "no."

Sigh.

In my head there's a perfect mommy, lovingly drawing with Penny, handing her the makeup brush and letting her get all messy with lipstick like a montage scene in a movie, and kindly dressing her and then giving her a hug and sending her off with the babysitter, perfectly happy and satisfied with the balanced and generous mothering she's received.

But I guess that mom is also not tired, not stressed, and then, not me.  And not even human really.  She's like the perfect mommy robot whose only emotions are love and forgiveness.  She can't feel anger or sadness or exhaustion or fear.  Those are scary emotions, particularly when they come out of women.  And there it is again.  That bubbling up of what women should be.  Right there in my own head, messing with my own family.