I used to be perfect. I was the most splendid, beautiful, and dazzling person in the world. I had an unequaled, flawless sense of humor that could evoke uncontrollable fits of hilarity. My mere presence in the room could elicit smiles, laughter, and fabulous, joyous displays of euphoria. My knowledge was unparalleled and I could truly do no wrong. I was omnipotent, omnipresent, and omniscient. I was the almighty mother.
Once upon a time, I was all this and more, to Squirt. Unfortunately, I am gradually being demoted. Squirt is discovering that I often do not know what I’m talking about and that she, in fact, is smarter than me. My wit and humor is becoming more annoying than amusing. I am slowly being relegated to the status of ignorant, inept, dull, embarrassing, brainless dimwit. I am reminded of this fact with every roll of her eyes and every cluck of her tongue. Yes, my perfection seems to be inversely proportional to Squirt’s age. As her age goes up, my level of awesomeness goes down. I call this the Law of Diminishing Perfection.
As far as I can tell, there are only two ways in which to manage the potentially ego-destroying effects of this law. The first option: simply wait it out until the pre-teen and teenage years have passed. I spit out my tongue and give a big, wet raspberry to that idea. The second option: have a baby. Done!
With each passing day, I can feel my status as super-mom gradually being renewed. Squeak smiles giddily whenever she sees me and follows me with her eyes wherever I go. She is learning to laugh at my goofiness and appreciate my awesomeness. I am returning to the apex of my perfection and it feels marvelous.
Some day, when Squeak is a pre-teen herself, the Law of Diminishing Perfection will wreak havoc once again. I take solace in the fact that, by then, my oldest child will be well past that stage. At that time, if all goes well, she will have fully realized my true brilliance and excellence. If not, then I guess I’ll just keep having babies.
