I'm Not That Mom

There, I said it. Not that that's the first time I've said it. I say it a lot to myself and every once in a while to an actual living, breathing person. Usually I'm referring to something specific. The reason today's outburst is different is that it's not specific; it refers to all aspects of my parenting. And you know what? It feels good; it's like an imaginary weight has been lifted.

I have a wonderful neighbor. She is someone that I know I can always count on to help me out in a time of crisis. Yesterday her son came and rang my doorbell while M was napping because he got wind that J had minimum days all week. At the time, J and M were playing nicely in the backyard while I was trying to get dinner prepped. As soon as he heard the doorbell, however, our backyard wasn't enough for him. He wanted to go outside and ride his bike with his buddy. But I wasn't ready to go out yet. I needed to finish what I was doing first. She, my neighbor, offered to take him as she usually does but that puts me on a time constraint and then M is left alone and it only makes things getting done more of a task.

I said no, that he'd have to wait until I was done. They left and it it all got done, as it always does, but with a lot of chatter of, "can we go yet?" When I got otuside my neighbor told me that her house is a mess but the kids want to play outside and what can she do?

For the billionth time in my almost-seven years of mommyhood I thought to myself, "I'm not that mom." For probably the first time, my next thought was, "and I don't care."

I can't keep up with the perfect-mom Joneses. No shame in my game. I'm not a slave to my kids. I've always known that. I may have been sucked up in that world for a while but I'm not kidding anyone.

I've heard all the PC cliches about how they're only little once; how the house will be clean and quiet once they're gone, and so on and so forth. I get it. I do. But it's also been said that if momma ain't happy; ain't nobody happy, and that too I get.

Every resident of this household knows that cleanliness will get you far. I love my kids and I would do anything for them....but the laundry has to be folded, the dishes washed, and dinner cooked before I do.

So I'll be adding "find balance" to my to-do list. Because while I may not be "That Mom," the mom that misses out on her kids' childhoods because she's obsessing over a dirty floor, that mom, is not one I aspire to be either.

Attention All Passengers

Attention All Passengers:

This is the final boarding call for Flight 23MOS to the Land of the Terrible Twos.

Once again, Flight 23MOS headed to the Land of the Terrible Twos is now boarding and

will depart shortly.

Please proceed to Gate BABYGIRLNOMORE immediately and make sure that any urges to use the word "month" to describe your age are checked at the security gate.

FAA regulations prohibits the use or attempted use of such utterances when traveling into the

Twos Territory.

Enjoy your stay.

Joining the Masses

What a difference a year makes. On his first day of Kindergarten, J let me take all kinds of pictures. I have snaps outside our house, as he's getting on and off the bus, and in front of the school.

In one of my favorite pictures, he's sitting on the porch steps waiting with anticipation for the almost-empty bus that would pick him up right outside our door; this year if I want a picture of him waiting for the bus I'll have to do it at the bus stop.

On the last day of school in June, I took another picture of him sitting in the same spot on the porch. I think I just started a tradition. This is the 1st grade version:



It's also the only picture where he actually posed for me. When I asked him if I could take some in front of the school like we did last year, he said, "maybe after school." I respected his wishes. I mean, do I really need a picture of him standing in front of the school every year?

Last year I picked out his outfit. This year, he wore what he wanted to wear: "My new Toy Story shirt and shorts," he told me weeks ago. Unfortunately, the weather didn't cooperate. The shorts were replaced by long pants and the shirt covered up by a jacket.

Because I'm not quite prepared to give up being part of his entourage on days like this, I drove him again, but unlike last year, once there he didn't pay us much attention. M and I hung out in the back with ~ also unlike last year ~ the few other nosy parents and heard a little bit of Mrs. Skinner's morning pep talk. The first thing out of her mouth was that she expected good work because they were first graders now.

And just like that he joined the masses. He's no longer a cute Kindergartner with all the concessions at his fingertips. Today, the real work begins: Daily walks to the bus stop to and fro, overcrowded public transportation, long days, high expectations.

Turns out the first day of first grade was also the first day of the rest of his life.

Short-Timer's Syndrome

You know that feeling when you've put in your two weeks' notice at a job? It's only two more weeks but they're the longest two weeks of your life and instead of doing the best job you can so as to leave a good and lasting impression you just do crappy work? And at the end of a long unproductive day you brush it off by telling yourself, "Hey, I'm leaving anyway." Well, maybe you don't. Maybe I'm just a slacker in that sense. But if you do know what I'm talking about, then you will know exactly how I've been feeling the last couple of weeks.

School starts tomorrow and I think I'm pretty safe when I say that J is ready. I know I am. While he's been telling anyone that will listen how many "sleeps" until he goes back to school; I've secretly been counting as well.

I know that I should be making these last few days of summer as memorable as can be for him, but after almost three months of summer vacation, this last stretch has been rough and as a result we haven't been playing nice lately. I'm not real sure if it's him acting up more or me just losing my patience. I don't know what it is but I do know that it's time.

At 8:29 tomorrow morning we begin a new phase in our lives and we're both excited to see what lies ahead.

By 3:17 tomorrow afternoon, I'll be ready to give him a hug and tell him how much M and I missed him throughout the day.

Good Luck in 1st grade, Buddy!

Tee-Tee for the Memories

Yesterday when I handed M her breakfast she displayed her manners as usual. She expressed gratitude for the blessing of food on the table. And it was a stab to my heart.

Her usual Tee-Tee was replaced with something that sounded much more like Thank You. I let it go hoping it was just a fluke. It's not. The rest of the day whenever she was handed something she would respond with the same two despicable-sounding words.

Like a persistent pain that refuses to go away, the words continued flowing. "Teek-Yu." "Teek-Yu." All day long. Both J and I have tried to say, Tee-Tee to her; me in hopes that it will remind her that when you're not even two it's okay to use sounds and grunts to get your point across. Instead she mimics what we say using her new found words as if to correct US.

She's mastered the K sound and I can't even begin to tell you how sad this makes me. She called her beloved Jay-Jee, Jakey yesterday. Loud, clear, and perfect. She doesn't seem quite as comfortable with this substitution, but it's coming. I just know it.

She'll be two next month and adult-speak is slowly but surely invading her world while the baby vocabulary becomes a thing of the past.

TEE-TEE for the memories, my sweet Girl ♥