More things that remind me I'm a mom.

While your childhood sports of field hockey and lacrosse are virtually non-existent in the south, you attempt to teach your athletic four year old the rudimentary fundamentals using nothing but a plastic baseball and a butterfly net.  And you know what...she's pretty darn good.

After a helpful demonstration by her older sister, your toddler suddenly realizes she's capable of escaping from her crib. The first time she tries, just moments after you put her down for a nap, she dramatically exits her room by flinging the door open and riding out on her play firetruck with the biggest, proudest smile on her face you've ever seen. And all you can do is shake your head and laugh.

When you look up and realize that your toddler has wandered out of your sight for the last 30 seconds, you run off to find her, of course, being bad - doing something like deciding to start taking a bath all by herself while still wearing her footie pajamas.

Every sixtieth time (give or take), however, that she wanders out of your sight and isn't making a sound, you find her doing something sweet - like playing innocently with her big sister's dollhouse.  (And actually, she didn't make the rest of the mess...that was all Big Sis.)

You notice that your seven year old is as obviously as nervous as you are about him having to play defense against Shaquille O'Neal himself.  (And you thought your son was one of the tall ones...)

(Note:  It's purple wristbands vs. purple wristbands.)

Your heart just melts when your seven year old recognizes all of the organizing you've been doing around the house and compliments you on it - "You're doing a great job with the house, Mommy."  (I just love that boy.)

Of course, you're conflicted about how to feel when you inspire him to start his own organizing mission to alphabetize his bookshelf - because his bedroom floor has looked like this for more than the number of days that should be required to accomplish the task...

You were more than surprised to see your toddler sidled up next to big sis watching a Barbie movie on the computer.  Of course, you shouldn't have been - she does everything her big sister does.

You have no idea how breakfasts that include syrup and/or jelly can result in sticky footprints - but you've ceased to be surprised by most things when it comes to your kids.

When your seven year old pops a tire on his new bike and walks it home in tears, the helpful nine year old neighbor boys ring your doorbell with advice on where to buy new ones, because, as they so willingly chime in, "We pop our tires all the time."  At which point you see another teaching moment and remind your son that he needs to be careful so as not to run over the broken barbed wire fence behind the backyard because you are not willing to replace his bike tires "all the time". 

And just because I can't end on a grumpy one...

After the banner week your toddler has had regarding "milestones" including climbing the bar stools, mastering every doorknob in your house, overcoming the child safety locks on the kitchen cabinets, and learning how to remove any article of clothing you dress her in - right down to turtlenecks and diapers, you have stopped being excited about milestones, and, instead, fear with every ounce of your being what the precocious little imp will tackle next.  (Okay, maybe you're a teeny bit impressed...but mostly scared - wink, wink.)


Debbie said...

I did a real, honest to goodness out loud laugh about Ben and the books. Then, I realized that I should start praying in advance for his future wife. Projects by the man of this house tend to look EXACTLY like that. Yeppers. Let's just pull it all out and contemplate it for a while...

God help me, I'll be watching him contemplate the new kitchen floor until Christmas. I just know it.

And just for the record: It's ALWAYS the big sister who makes the mess. That's my story, and I'm sticking to it.

Denise said...

I'm not surprised you're organizing your home. That's what type A personalities do with extra time. I highly recommend it.

Good luck with keeping Sarah "tethered". It looks as though you might need it.

And also for the record: It's ALWAYS the little sister who makes the mess. At least when I was growing up...

Sharon Kirby said...

How I LOVE your Mom things - they ALWAYS make me laugh, chuckle, smile - and often, chortle and guffaw.

The guffaw came this time on the Shaquille O'Neal remark - oh, too too funny - and "been there, done that" with my oldest son. He's was incredibly short - and there were monsters out there. Does the NBA recruit in elementary school?

As for the mess-making...I'm torn. I'm pretty fond of BOTH Denise and Debbie, and coming down on one side would be like choosing sides in the Hatfield-McCoy feud. Hmmm...

Here is my most diplomatic answer - I'm the oldest sister, and my little sister and I decided that our middle BROTHER was definitely the one who always made the mess...just for the record!

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