Gobble, gobble! Thankful for some mo' Mom Things

I had whole-hearted intentions of doing a proper "edition" (if you will) of Mom Things tonight.  Turns out, I'm tired, and four days behind on my Bible study homework, and I still haven't made that banana bread that I swore I was going to make for a bereaved friend in my small group.  So what you're going to get, is an abbreviated version.  My blog, I make the rules.  Which is so dumb because who needs rules on a blog anyway?  Only Type-A's create rules for themselves. 

So - some How to Know You're a Mom stuff:

You watch your two year old wedge herself between the safety fencing and the giant tube slide in the Chick-Fil-A playground, and you only rescue her when she starts to panic.  Amid riotous laughter between you & your husband and your daughter crying out, "I stuck!!!!", you make quite a spectacle of yourselves as you try to un-wedge her from the tight spot.  It's uncannily reminiscent of Winnie-the-Pooh stuck in the hole into Rabbit's home.  Eventually, you manage to pull her out - for her to run off with a giggle and, you swear, a fist-pump of victory.  (If only you'd had the camera....)

As you emerged victorious from the play area, other moms in the restaurant reacted to the riotous laughter you enjoyed at your daughter's expense with mixed reviews.  You got a few "Love the sense of humor!" votes and a few "I can't believe you just laughed at your helpless, stuck child" looks.  Quite seriously, I'm not sure what kind of mom makes it without a sense of humor.

You watch with a hint of amusement as your wily five year old girl attempts to teach a neighborhood boy how to climb the piddly tree in your front yard.  When asked repeatedly "How do you do that?" by the boy, and after showing him exactly how about a half a dozen times, she finally replied with a sigh, "I'm just good at it."

You can't get into or out of your kids' elementary school without your two-year-old having to love on the giant lion in the lobby.  Seriously, look at her go.  Eyes closed and finger in her belly-button.  That is pure bliss.

Your kids have taken up yard work as a hobby without any prompting whatsoever.  They even work great as a team...except when there are two girls and only one mini-wheelbarrow.

You thought putting your tow-headed five year old in a braid might bring out her inner Pocahontas, but there's really nothing you can do to make this child even remotely pass for a Native American.  Not even the headdress and animal-skin dress help.

Gobble, gobble!  (And I'll see you tomorrow.)