Imagining my life as World’s Best Mom

Her minivan turned out of the school parking lot and cruised gracefully down the street, sunlight streaming into her open window. The gentle breeze lifted her hair softly away from her face and twisted the several blue ribbons hanging from her rearview mirror.

How cute, I thought. She hangs her children’s ribbons in her car. They must feel proud.

I approached the stop sign behind her and crept slowly toward her back bumper. That’s when I saw it — the ribbon that told me everything I needed to know — the ribbon that proved I was (sort of) in the presence of greatness.

Its red letters were outlined in gold: “World’s Best Mom.”

There she was. I couldn’t believe it. The world’s best mom was driving the van right in front of me. She had just dropped her children at school, and now she must be headed home for a day of world-class motherhood.

For the rest of my drive home, I wondered what a day in the life of the world’s best mom would be like.

The world’s best mom probably would arrive back home and head straight to her children’s rooms to make sure their beds were made and their pajamas were put away. She would rinse the toothpaste blobs out of the sink, open the shades and grab the laundry, smiling contentedly at the chocolate stains on her son’s T-shirt as she thought of the fun they had had going out for ice cream the night before.

The world’s best mom would get the washer and dryer going, pull a roast out of the freezer for dinner and then sit down in her sunny kitchen to plan the end-of-the-year party for her daughter’s class. It would be so pleasant in her kitchen, what with the smell of brownies baking in the oven.

She’d make a list of errands (buy teacher gifts, get new baseball gear for Junior, buy a birthday gift for Susie to take to a party, stop at the grocery store for vegetables that don’t come in cans), and then maybe she’d make some phone calls to organize a Cub Scout camping trip.

The world’s best mom might then walk the dog, put in an hour of yardwork, eat a healthy lunch and then head to the school to volunteer in the library.

I can just imagine how organized and productive the world’s best mom is. She looks at her calendar and plans ahead. She’s never caught off guard. Heck, she’s the world’s best.

I’m not the world’s best mom.

When I get home from dropping my children at school, I have to tackle the war zone that is my kitchen. It takes a solid hour to empty and reload the dishwasher, sweep the Rice Krispies off the floor, wipe the syrup off the table from someone’s frozen waffle breakfast (Note: The world’s best mom would serve homemade) and refill the dog dish.

These chores are daunting, so instead, I usually just pour another cup of coffee and read the paper.

While the world’s best mom makes sure in advance that her children have the perfect gifts for friends’ birthday parties, I buy things en route. I thought this was the whole reason decorative gift bags were invented — for people like me who purchase presents at the pharmacy, along with a card, some tissue paper and a container in which to present the gift.

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