When my son was a few months old, I received a text from Daddy. “You’re a goof mom.” Followed almost immediately was another text, written somewhat frantically. “Good, not goof. I meant good. You’re a good mom.” I just laughed, knowing that he was right on both counts.
I am a goof mom (and a good one, too). I like to play on the dirty wood floor, being tigers and zebras stalking each other across the plains. I like to build blocks and then teach Bjorn to walk through them like Godzilla. I have even been known to dance around, making silly faces and singing nonsense tunes, just to see the tiniest of baby smiles from Bjorn.
I always thought I wanted to be a MILF. I wanted to be the mom who takes her baby to Baby Music Mambo wearing skinny jeans, slouchy boots and always the latest accessorizing hit (scarf, bangle bracelets, one big gaudy ring). I wanted to be the mom who elicited stares of jealousy, even back-handed envious comments, from other moms. Really, I wanted to be Heidi Klum.
But who doesn’t?
But, a few months into being a Mom, being a MILF stopped sounding like fun. I stopped wanting jealousy from the other mama’s, I wanted friendship. And if I skipped a shower or two, throwing one of Daddy’s old ball caps on to cover the mess, was Bjorn then not going to want to play? Perfection is hard work, and there is enough hard work in mothering that I didn’t need to add anything else to the mix.
Being a goof mom is good enough for me.
Being a goof mom means that all the playdates are at my house, where the kids can shake out an entire box of cheerios, dance along to the Wiggles and spray each other with the garden hose.
Being a goof mom means that I don’t worry what the stranger beside me in Target thinks as I’m twisting and gyrating to the sound speaker pop music, just so I can entertain Bjorn while I shop.
Being a goof mom means that I think it’s kind of funny when Bjorn pukes all over himself while running errands, and since I have forgotten to pack extra clothes for him again, he has to spend the rest of the day wearing nothing but khaki shorts and a pair of socks.
Being a goof mom means that I never have to worry about looking good, because every crazy woman looks pretty with a smile.
A goof mom usually has a cheerio stuck in her hair, mismatched socks, and earrings that don‘t dangle enough to be in the reach of grabby little hands. Goof moms have friendships with other moms and playdates at the park with wine and cheerios.
Goof moms can be good moms. I know. I am one.