I’ve written about this mug before. It was the mug at work that I’d never drink from. I’d never choose it from mix ‘n matched mugs in the break room at work. I wouldn’t drink from this mug until I was able to get pregnant and Miriam was born. Until she was real. And here. And healthy. And safe. I had “mug goals” and nothing was stopping me.

Well, today the handle on this mug got broken. Not by me and not by my boss who was drinking his tea from it. It just got knocked over in the course of the day. It just happened. No big deal. But this broken mug was exactly how I was feeling today when I punched the timeclock, 10 minutes late as usual.

“My Mom is the Best” written in a child’s handwriting. I’m pretty sure Miriam thinks I’m the best. I definetly think she’s amazing. She makes me smile these pensive, teary smiles. She amazes me with her memory and negotiating skills. She cracks me up with her imitation of me that may involve some cursing. She smiles with her eyes as well as those cheeks and little pearly teeth.

When the mug broke today, I felt validated. I felt simpatico. I felt like I was in good company with this broken vessel. It was now my mascot. My talisman. My logo.

Miriam didn’t want to go into her classroom this morning at drop-off. She was a little clingy and uncharacteristically unsure of herself. We were really late for school. And I was later than usual for work.

I wanted to just give her “a pass” today. A day to cling to Mommy, just because she wanted to. I wanted to give myself “a pass” too. A pass on knowing exactly what was bothering her. A pass on knowing how to handle it, aside from how the childcare experts say. I just wanted to start over.

Just because the day started out like this…just because the mug got broken…just because we were all late and hesitant and clingy…I’m still the best mom that I can be right now. Broken handle and all.

And you are too.