Mom vs. Mom

Welcome to my newest followers! Your life from here on out will improve greatly.

I also promised you an update on the swallowing of the pearl from my necklace. It seems either Pmoney did not actually swallow it and it fell off, or he did swallow it and it has not...processed? yet. Although, Josh has changed a few poopy diapers since the "incident" and I suspect his diaper digging skills are less than desirable.

Psizzle is just over 14 months old now. In the past year and two months, I have reflected on and observed moms around me. Don't worry, I'm not naming names--for the most part. I have been thinking about the type of mom I want to be verse the type of mom I don't want to be. I will share some of my thoughts and observations with you here today.

Mom I don't want to be #1: The "I only feed my child(ren) organic health food from Amish organic farms where they raise organic cows and allow them to sleep in bed with their own children."

Instead, I want to be more like my grandmothers. My maternal grandmother once fed her children "watercress" sandwiches for a whole week while on vacation. She did this because apparently it was growing in the backyard of where ever they were staying. It wasn't until my grandfather joined them at the end of the week that he pointed out this was not watercress, but in fact weeds. No not weed, weedS. She fed her family lawn clippings. She also notoriously once made an apple pie and when asked what happened to the crust she replied, "It hasn't formed yet." My mother and her siblings could all attest to the fact that they had hot pizza every Friday night, but my grandmother did not drive and this we pre- pizza home delivery. Not one of them can recall how the pizza got to their house and how it was still hot. My other grandmother was a great cook and did a killer Julia Child impersonation, well I'm not sure if it was killer, but it made a 7 year-old me laugh. From this I take away that I want to make hot pizza appear as if from nowhere and that in a pinch, kids are dumb and can be convinced lawn clippings are eatable. I'm ok with this. I also learned it is important to have fun in the kitchen.

Mom I don't want to be #2: The type of mom who freaks out at the mere sight of blood or if my child mildly hurts himself while doing something stupid.

Instead I want to be like my friend who has two sweet boys. Earlier this week Pman and I went to a play date with two other moms and their kids. I was the only mom with one kid and he was the only kid who didn't walk. (I don't say he can't walk, because he totally can, he just seems to be a bit lazy- this is something I will address later.) Anyway, all the kids were doing the standard issue screaming/wrestling/running in circles thing, pausing occasionally for snack breaks. At one point one of the mom's went to the bathroom and came out saying, "I think someone is bleeding, I have some spots on my shirt." We all checked our respective kids and ourselves, saw no blood and moved on with the play date. It was no big deal that someone in the room was bleeding, or at least had been at one time. It later turned out it was her own son's big toe that caused the spots, but still no biggie. Whenever Pfunk hurts himself and looks to me to find out what is an appropriate reaction, I usually say, "You're ok. There's no blood." Leading him to believe if there is blood, it must be bad, but maybe not.

Mom I don't want to be #3: The mom who's kids' outfits are just so all the time, whether they are on the soccer field, in the school play or at church.

When I was a wee-me, I was a Brownie. I liked being a Brownie. I hated being a Girl Scout. Being a Brownie meant I just had to make crafts, eat cookies and drink fruit punch at "meetings"- I what do a bunch of 5, 6 and 7 year old meet about anyway? We camped indoors with plumbing and electricity. And mattresses. However, when a girl goes from Brownie to Girl Scout there is a big ceremony and you are encouraged to earn badges for this ceremony. The badges were to be sewn onto your sash by your mother. This was pre-iron on patches. Well, my mom was a working mom, a very hard working mom and I am one of four kids. My badges did not get sewn on my sash. No, mine were stapled on...backwards. So during this prestigious and regal crossing over ceremony from Brownie to full fledged Girl Scout, I stood in front of a crowd of strangers with a huge smile on my face, with a backward sash and badges that were all flipped up as only the tops of each one were actually stapled. Messy and disheveled are ok sometimes, especially if your kid has no idea what they are suppose to look like.

Mom I don't want to be #4 (but I'm sure I will be): The sobbing mom at the bus stop on my baby's first day of school. From our living room window you can see one of the bus stops in our neighborhood. Pman likes to sit at the window and watch the kids bounce off the bus and through the court. This makes me sad to know that one day (way too soon, if you ask me) I will put my little guy on a big yellow bus and watch him be driven off down the street toward school- without a seatbelt. Just the thought makes me teary. Josh just rolls his eyes when I bring this up. I told him that I was going to drop off and pick up Pman every day from school until he is in 6th grade. At that point, I will allow him to ride the bus, which I trailing in my own car. Josh says, "He is going to hate you!" I know, but I mean this bus thing starts when they are like 5 or 6. How can this BEEEE? Parker, I apologize now for the sobbing that will likely occur on a daily basis for at least your entire first year of school. I will stuff the tissues in my shirt sleeve and try to keep a stiff upper lip, but I make no promises.