And that's when you know

just how much of an amazingly perfect mother you are. The loaf of homemade bread is cooling on the countertop – its warm, yeasty aroma filling your kitchen with happy expectations of sitting around the table with people you love. The edges of the spiced apple pork chops are crisping in the oven and the last of the water evaporates from the pot of garlic brown rice. The house smells good. My smallish people are quietly reading and playing with their stash of holiday toys.

I feel like today was worth more – like I somehow managed to get more organics into their bodies and meaningful ideas into their minds.

I smooth my smartly coifed hair and pick a few bits of lint from my pressed pants.

My darling toddler looked up from chugga-choo-chooing his wooden train and sweetly asked “what you cooking?” I revealed delicious secrets of warm bread, baked apples and tender pork chops – to which he took great offense and shrieked disgustedly “NO! I WANT CHIKIN NUGGITS!”

Just then the shiny Perfect Mother ribbon unpinned itself from my festive new year’s sweater and fell to the floor without making a sound. All that hard work! All that kneading and seasoning! I swept the floors three times today for god’s sake!

I cracked open the last lime beer in the refrigerator and told him to go watch some TV.

I think it’s back to yoga pants and peanut butter and jelly.