Perhaps the best way to introduce myself is to tell you who I am not.

You know those women whose bodies are unchanged throughout pregnancy except for their cute emerging belly? The ones who keep their slender arms, legs, face etc? Well, that’s not me. I have full body pregnancies. Apparently, my babies need a great deal of maternal back fat while developing. They need thick arms, cankles and skin tags too.

You know those women who are in the best shape of their lives 3 months postpartum? The ones who have to buy new clothes in a smaller size? The ones who look impossibly incongruous holding their tiny infant? Well, that’s not me. I’m the woman who tells you my 7-month-old is really 5 months old so that I have a better reason to still be so fat. (And you are shocked at my 18 lb, very alert 5-month-old.)

You know those women who cherish their time with their young children because “it all goes by so fast”? The ones who constantly engage their kids in enriching, creative and exciting activities that are fun for everyone? Well, that’s not me. It does not all go by so fast over here. In fact, I often look at the clock multiple times within the same minute, stunned that it’s still not naptime. I am annoyed that there are no new Curious George episodes because we have seen them all a billion times.

Finally, you know those women who have wonderful scrapbooks and baby books documenting every adorable smile, date of first teeth, lock of hair? Well, that’s not me. I have exactly one printed photo of my 7-month-old and it is her birth announcement. I have a baby book, and it’s empty. I already don’t remember when she smiled for the first time, when she sat.

So, who am I? I’m the mom who makes you feel better about your parenting. If you’re not still a good 40-50 lbs overweight 7 months postpartum, then you’re doing better than at least one other mom. If you decide that it actually is worth the trouble to wrestle your 3-year-old into his snow gear to go out to play more often than not, then you’re a step ahead of me. And if you have a single photo of your not-first-born child, then you are, well you get the idea.

I am not proud of my mediocrity by any means, but I do think that I’m probably good enough. Yes, my poor daughter may one day lament that I don’t have a baby book for her, but I’ll explain that I was just too busy getting spit up out of my hair (on most days, I do bother with at least that much), keeping her from constantly scratching her full body eczema, all while trying to control her impossible to control 3-year-old brother who has taken to opening doors and leaving the house. If, by the end of the day, I have not lost her brother, or ended up in the hospital with him, and she is not bleeding and infected from scratching, then I’ve done well enough. Add to that actually providing palatable, healthy(ish) meals and snacks, ensuring everyone has enough sleep, and reading a couple of books together then I think the day is a success. Even if at one time or another, I ignored both of my crying children and locked the bathroom door to pee in private. I don’t need to be a martyr. I am allowed to pee and shower on my own. I am allowed to sit and drink coffee. So, S, stop scratching that, and, L, get down from there; Curious George is on.