A month or so ago, right before BlogHer, I asked Issa from Issascrazyworld if she would guest post for me. I was a bit nervous…I am so NOT COOL enough for a guest post. I hit the send button on the email and prayed she wouldn’t laugh at me. She didn’t. She wrote back saying she would be honored. WHEW, what a relief! Thank you so much Issa…I heart you!

It’s always awesome to be asked to be a guest poster at someone’s blog. Its an honor really. However once you’ve said yes, then reality sets in. What can I say? What do I possibly say in someone elses place? What if I do this and then she stops liking me? I have nothing to talk about. Can I talk about my happiness that Top Chef comes back on tonight? No that is lame drivel. Save it for my blog.

Have I mentioned I’m an over thinker? Hi, I’m Issa and I’m an over thinker. Seriously though, thank you Ali for letting me into your space. I am truly honored.

NOT THAT MOM

I am not that mom. You know the one, the one who has it all together. The one whose children speak two languages; always look like they jumped off of a Baby Gap ad; do elaborate art projects in their spare time and play the cello. What, all four year olds don’t play the cello?

I am not that mom. I used to think it was important, back when my girls were babies. Heck, before I had children I thought I’d be that mom. It interesting how life changes you. Funny how the skills needed to be that mom are not suddenly handed to you with the baby wrapped like a burrito. I thought they would be. I truly did.

At some point though I started learning that the mom I am is okay. As my girls grew past the baby stages, I realized I’d actually rather be the mom I am, than the mom I thought I’d be.

I will let you in on a few little secrets of mine, for those of you who think you need to be that mom.

I don’t allow kid music in my house. Period. My kids rock out to Pink and Nickleback. They know all the words to every James Taylor, Mary J. Blige and Dixie Chicks song. They dance to Justin Timberlake and The Frey. They do not know now, nor have they ever known who the Wiggles are. None of the rest of it either. See I can’t even name it, as its not something we’ve ever listened too.

They watch what I watch on TV. Food Network is a family favorite. I allow Disney, but limit it. I will admit that both of the girls have seen Grey’s Anatomy. Not often, but they have seen it.

Yes my house is full of Disney movies, but my girls favorite movie is Transformers. Truly. My seven year old wants to see the new Fame movie more that she wanted to see UP.

I don’t allow scissors at my house. Or play-doh. Seriously. When my five year old proves she doesn’t need to make confetti, then she may have scissors. Until then, art projects happen at school or my bff’s house.

The most spanish they know is from Sesame Street. I’m happy to report that if in Mexico, my kids could ask for the yellow four. Perfectly in fact.

The cello? Ha. Ha. I can’t stop laughing at the thought. Morgan will start piano this fall however.

I wasn’t sad when my girls went to school this week. I know, shocking huh. Tons of people were sad about their kids going back, but I just wasn’t. Even though Bailey went to kindergarten I was kind of thrilled to have some piece and quiet in my house. Well its not actually quiet, since Harrison is still at home. Quieter at least.

I yell more than I wish I did; we eat out more than I’d like; my kids have more electronics than all of Best Buy and everything they own has that brat Miley Cyrus’s face on it. But you know what? It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t harm them. They are amazing despite all of this. Maybe even because of it.

That mom is a myth. And if she’s not, I’m happy to not be her. I’m okay with being the frazzled mom.