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Fess Up

Confessions of an Imperfect Mom

By Lisa Smartt

OK. I admit it. Sometimes I yell. Sometimes my kids don't brush their teeth. I've opened crackers in the grocery cart. I've served overly processed meat products with no vegetables more times than I want to admit. I've culled their Halloween candy for the "good" chocolate. I've forgotten school deadlines and misplaced library books. I've proudly organized my boys' toys into color-coded bins but, within days, found myself tossing Luke Skywalker in with Mr. Potato Head – and not even feeling guilty about it. I've made chore charts, which I later used for writing my grocery list. I never carry tissues in my purse. I've even been known to have my kids blow their noses on those brown sand-paperish towels in the Wal-Mart bathroom.

And speaking of Wal-Mart, I've had my share of disastrous mommy/son meltdowns there over the years. I think Wal-Mart should have special attendants available for moms of small children, don't you? I can just hear it over the loud speaker: "Emotional meltdown on aisle seven. Emotional meltdown on aisle seven. Weepy 36-year-old in need of psychological counseling. Three-year-old needs to be bodily removed from the vanilla wafers." It could work.

Ever read the signs in the Wal-Mart bathroom that discourage shoplifting by saying, "It'

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