Mother of the Year

According to my mom, my high school guidance counselor had once declared that I'm a "AAA" personality type.

Somehow, I don't think that was meant as a compliment.

For those of you unfamiliar with the "Type A, Type B" personality construct, allow me to give you a quick breakdown:

• Type "A" personalities are workaholic, task-driven, competitive, ambitious stress addicts
• Type "B" personalities are calm, patient, easy going meditatives.

In other words, when the Type A personality finally "goes postal," the Type B personality will be the loving, patient therapist that calmly reassures them that a demonic bunny is not, indeed, telling them the end of the world is near.

So, being the Type A that I am, motherhood immediately became something to conquer and control. I couldn't simply be a good mom, I had to be the BEST. My kid couldn't just be a good kid, he had to be THE BEST.

You can imagine how well that went over.

During the first 5 years of Malcolm's life, I found myself constantly comparing myself to other moms, analyzing their behavior and trying to figure out which method of parenting was the best way, so I could guarantee I was giving my best parent performance possible. After hearing about something one of my "mom friends" had done, I would feel guilt-ridden if I didn't somehow incorporate it into my parenting style. If one was creative and did art projects, I would try that with Malcolm. If one was super strict on the kinds of food she allowed her child to eat, I would suddenly find myself eliminating pudding from the fridge and adding more fruit. If one was more free-flowing and felt like we put too many "rules" on kids, I'd try to lighten up - the pudding would come back and bring some friends (cookies anyone?) and rules went out the window.

What was the result of all these escapades? A closet full of unused art supplies, half-finished projects, a child who is extremely confused on how often he is allowed to eat sweets, and a mother who felt worse than before.

Over the last year, I've finally started to "come into my own" as a parent. I am finally beginning to realize that I need to be the parent I feel is best for Malcolm, and that emerges most naturally from me. So far, that seems to mean a good balance of the Disney Channel and book reading, cookies and apples with peanut butter, and yes, the occasional art project. But now, this all feels natural and fun, and less like a competition for Mother of the Year.

Honestly, at this point I don't care if I'm the best Mom out there - I just care that I'm the best one for Malcolm.