When I became a mother, I pictured long days of rocking my sweet babies and imparting all my knowledge to them as they grew.

I know some of you are already snickering. It’s amazing how quickly I go from that sweet, nurturing mother to a snorting Godzilla monster. Several years ago I’d spent a long day at my sister’s and returned home with the girls late. Since my husband was still at work, I intended to fix dinner then go to bed just after the girls did. Yeah, right. I gave my oldest a carton of yogurt and ran off to change the baby’s diaper. When I came back, my toddler grinned at me. “I do art, Mommy.” Yup, the dog and dining room table were “painted” in yogurt.

I held it together. Just a few more minutes … Wrong! The baby was screaming, the dog was spinning in circles to lick off the yogurt, and my toddler crawled on top of the table. I watched in slow motion as a glass of water rolled, spilled then smashed onto the tile floor. Enter Godzilla Mommy. I screamed, taught my children a new vocabulary word (not a nice one), burst into tears, and stomped toward the vacuum. My reaction caused my children to cry and the dog to bark. Overall, not my most stellar moment in motherhood. Oh, and I dropped the glass shards three separate times on the way to the trash.

I later called a friend and told her the sordid story. She chuckled. “I taught my children that same word last week when my youngest pulled a glass cake platter off the kitchen counter just before a new client arrived to sample the cake.”

I thanked God for my friend and her willingness to share her shortcomings. I’m not perfect, but I’m not alone. So that made me think. Perhaps Godzilla wasn’t trying to destroy all those buildings. Maybe Godzilla was just a misunderstood parent who’d stepped on one too many toys.