Attending parenting classes, Mommy and Me, library story times, dance classes, music classes and sporting events with one's child does not make one a perfect parent.

Reading books and magazines on the subject ad nauseum and pretending - or, worse, believing -to know exactly how to handle every imaginable situation does not make one a perfect parent.

Being a stay-at-home parent or a working parent; a single parent or a married parent; a grandparent raising one's grandkids; a foster parent or an adoptive parent; a Christian, Muslim or atheist parent, does not make one a perfect parent.

Being the editor of a parenting magazine does not make one a perfect parent.

There is no such thing on earth as a perfect parent.

We do try, however. And why is it that those who consciously TRY and make the best decisions for their families seem hardest on themselves?

"Too often," writes Katy Read in the October issue of Brain, Child magazine, "mothers somehow absorb the idea that anything less than the proverbial cookie-baking June Cleaver model isn't just imperfect but ... bad. Selfish, irresponsible, cause for shame and self-vilification. Permanently damaging to innocent offspring who, had it not been for our deficiencies, would undoubtedly have grown into perfect pillars of mental and physical health."

I can so relate!

Case in point: I "deprived" my 3 1/2-year-old daughter the other day of a cast-off red teddy bear from the Salvation Army thrift store. I felt completely justified in my decision, having purchased her a dress-up fairy costume AND a Disney princess suitcase in the same shopping trip. We did NOT need another teddy bear in the house, and, anyway, secondhand stuffed animals creep me out.

I blogged briefly about the experience (see Momsense blog dated Sept. 22 on The Intelligencer Web site, www.theintelligencer.net), stating that I learned that "You can have the patience of Job, the verbal skills of a hostage negotiator and the unconditional love of Mother Teresa, but sometimes you're just not going to get out of the thrift store without dragging your child out kicking and screaming."

I remain adamant that I made the right decision. I can't give her everything she wants, any time she wants it.

But when I remember the tantrum to end all tantrums that Emma launched on the sidewalk that day, I still shudder and wonder where I went wrong. Not only did she scream as if being drawn and quartered, she pulled my hair, slapped me and ran away from me into a parking lot (a horrifying thought to any red-blooded parent). There were several witnesses to the scene. Thank God all but one chose to ignore us. The man who didn't, looked me in the eye, scowling, and shook his head. When I finally got her into the car and we drove away, I felt my OV Parent bumper sticker mocking me from behind.

Was she tired when we went shopping? Yes. Was she hungry? Probably. But I don't want to allow those things to excuse her behavior. I spent the rest of the day wrestling with whose behavior I should be the most upset with, hers or mine. But if it was she who committed the worst crime, wasn't I still to blame? I questioned every aspect of my parenting that day.

Some I have told about the experience said I should have spanked Emma because she was out of control and needed to be "jolted" back to reality. On two or maybe three occasions since she turned 2, we have spanked Emma at home when she was screaming and crying uncontrollably to the point that she was in danger of hurting herself or one of us. The thought crossed my mind during the Teddy Bear Debacle, but I didn't do it. I just couldn't justify hitting her right after she had hit me.

She would have stopped her tantrum immediately if I had gone back in and bought the bear, which some of my blog readers intimated is probably what I should have done. To me, that is the worst thing I could have done because it would have shown Emma that a tantrum produces the desired results.

My husband, God bless him, said I did all the right things that day. I reasoned with her calmly and coolly while in the store, determined not to raise my voice. When she wouldn't give up the bear after about 15 minutes, I plucked it from her hands and physically removed her from the store. That's when the tantrum began.

I can't help thinking, though, that if I were the perfect parent, she would never have had a tantrum like that. It's as if I'm wired to blame myself. Where did I go wrong?

Then it dawned on me. There are no perfect parents.

And, here's the thing - even if there were, there are no perfect children!

Three-year-olds will have tantrums from time to time. That doesn't make me a bad parent, nor does it make Emma a bad child. I know my Emma's temper is quicker to rise and burns hotter than other kids' tempers. But I'm sure there are kids out there with worse tempers than hers. At 3, she has yet to master self-control. And her brain is not yet able to process the logical argument that "you have plenty of teddy bears and do not need another one." I believe the Teddy Bear Debacle will be filed in her brain under Tantrum Experiments and marked "Failed." Next time, she may act differently because of it.

How do I know all that, you ask? I think I read it in a parenting magazine.

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