One of the hard parts of being a stay at home mom is being around your kids all the time. Ok, I know that is a gimmee. I mean more in the sense that I have grown used to their little eccentricities. I don’t really notice them anymore unless they are really aggravating, or I put us in a social situation that rather highlights their quirks.
I gave up on library story time for Linus years ago. He demonstrated from the moment he could walk that he was nothing like Tater. Sit still and be read a story or three? Are you KIDDING me? Ditto with church. I gave up on attending Mass because after an hour of wrangling Linus, I was ready to grab the blood of Christ and run off screaming. They really do frown upon you sipping from the cup and saying “hit me again!”
While I utilized nearly every program the library offered for my oldest, I began dodging them all once I realized Linus was not going to cooperate. It is only recently that I attempted to get back into enjoying their offerings.
Since most of these happen on Saturdays at 2, we are consistently late. I am a big believer in the whole “don’t wake a sleeping baby” theory. He wakes up, and we head out.
Of course, that doesn’t go smoothly. The simple directives of “put on your shoes and get into the van” cannot be followed. The baby most likely will drop a load after just having his diaper changed and clean clothes put on.
Once we are finally there and in the events room, I brace myself. I will say that a little boy actually got out of his seat and offered it to me today! What wonderful manners! I politely declined, because I really needed to be within grabbing distance of Linus.
Who was wearing gloves today. At the end of June. Even better? They didn’t match! I believe in picking your battles. I have had to force him to change out of sweats when it is 84 degrees so he won’t get heat stroke. But gloves? Is it really worth the battle?
Tater shot me a look that told me this better be the last puppet show I take him to. He enjoyed it, yes. But he had a sneaking suspicion that he shouldn’t like it.
Linus participated, half-heartedly. He wiggled. He put his feet up on the wall (with me hissing to get them down NOW). He began to hit himself in the forehead with his gloved hands. I prayed he was thinking boxing gloves and Wii games to justify it, but really all I could think of was the movie “Parenthood.” When the toddler had a bucket on his head and was banging his head against a wall and Rick Moranis comments “you must be so proud.”
Yeah.
Fortunately Linus gave up on self-flagellation and opted to just squeeze in closer to see if he could share my lap with JD. The baby wasn’t quite awake yet, and he was watching that puppet like it might snatch him from my arms if just given the chance.
All those things you don’t notice become glaringly obvious under the scrutiny of others. Even if they aren’t paying attention.
Like the mom yesterday, and her boys talking about farts. I wasn’t judging her abilities as a parent, or her sons’ choice of humor. I was just relating to it and thanking my lucky stars I wasn’t alone! But she too felt the white hot spotlight of someone else witnessing her kids being less than perfect.
Our kids are not perfect. We all have butt scratchers, nose pickers, booger eaters, scab pickers, genital obsessed, fidgety, fussy, clingy kids at some point.
Not that there’s anything wrong with that.
Just when other people are watching, right? Like the people who come to such events with their kids in matching, clean outfits and yours are wearing whatever they picked out that morning. It isn’t clean, it doesn’t match, and they are dirty from playing outside. You could grow plants with the amount of dirt they have under their fingernails, that naturally need to be trimmed. The baby isn’t wearing shoes (although I think shoes on a baby in the summer is cruel) but you can see the dirt between his toes as well. Not to mention I wouldn’t want to be inspected too closely because I couldn’t resist walking in the garden barefoot to check on my peas and tomatoes.
But we have been enjoying the great outdoors in the too short summer of Michigan. We got a little dirty. What’s wrong with that?
LOL. I think we are way harder on ourselves than other mothers are. I generally try and cut other parents some slack. It’s not like my kids have been perfect little angels. Ever.
We can only do the best we can.
Amen! I try to do the same, but sometimes it is hard to cut myself the same slack. Go figure.
Isn’t it funny that we can cut every other mother slack and give her the benefit of the doubt (other than the mother of that smoking toddler..I reserve the right to judge her!), but we all assume that every other mother is looking at our kids and wondering if she should call DCYF from her cell or wait till she gets home. I never judge, because with Marc’s Aspergers I know that even when a kid seems totally out of control and horrid and he MUST have terribly lax, undisciplining parents…he could just be a little out of the realm of normal. Not everything is Mommy and Daddy’s fault. (had an episode tonight where I had to keep him in the hall of the building because he was dangerous to the other kids and he was throwing himself full force into the door…I’m sure all the other condos could hear him…but I had to do what I had to do)
Bacardi Mojito malt liquor is making it better…but I just want my vacation to be over!
Julia poops only but once a week. I should be able to time it to get to Mass. You’d think anyway.
I knew there was something wrong with my breastmilk! Mine pooped constantly!
I’ve always said there’s nothing wrong with being a little dirty, I’m sure. In fact, I never grew out of my genital obsession, I just parlayed it into my fascination with others’. ’nuff said.
That isn’t exactly lighting my ray of hope, Rav! I don’t want to be grandmother at 40!