What Not To Wear

I hope I'm not shattering any illusions out there, but sometimes being a mom can be quite...um, what can I say to soften the truth...less than glamorous, shall we say?

Unglamorous. Yes, I like that, let’s run with that one. Let me illustrate what I mean with a delightful anecdote from what should have been a very uneventful outing. I just finished dropping off my daughter at dance class, and although I'm freshly showered and smell like the tropics, I'm hiding out in my car, too embarrassed to step out into the light of day.

Mind you, I didn't set out to look this way, but sadly, the end result of the matter is that I look like "that mom"; you know, the one that everyone looks upon with pity and concludes: "Poor thing, she's given up on life."

I have no one to blame but myself. It all started when I lingered in the shower a little bit longer than I should have and then had to throw on the first thing I could find to avoid making my daughter late. Ironically, I was initially rather impressed with myself.

My selection consisted of my favorite black yoga pants (they're stretchy, as all pants should be), a black turtleneck (can't go wrong with a classic), and some shimmery ballet flats (for that touch of sparkle). I threw my damp, tangled mess of curls into a bun and convinced myself that I had really pulled it together at the last minute and was feeling quite confident. After all, my outfit was slimming, smart, and dare I say, sexy? Ok, no—I agree—maybe that last one was a stretch, alright, I’ll admit it…a far stretch, I mean, how sexy can a black turtleneck really be?

Anyway, my delusion began unraveling almost instantly as I caught a glimpse of my reflection in the front hallway mirror and realized, with only seconds to race towards the car to get to dance class on time, that my shirt was on backwards! The downward spiral escalated quickly...as I started driving off, I looked down and noticed a large, peculiar stain smeared just above my knees that corresponds to the exact height of my son's nose. I never imagined that, one day, I would become a human tissue (sigh).

Now, I know that saliva just doesn't equal the stain-fighting power of Tide, but, like any other desperate person would do in the same situation, I abandoned reason and desperately proceeded to spit-groom my pants. It wasn't working, so, having lost sight of logic and venturing into the dark side of panic, I concluded I just wasn't using enough spit and aggressively stepped-up my efforts. Looking back, that was not my proudest moment.

As I continued the attempt to save my pants while driving, I caught another glimpse of myself in the rearview and, this time, discovered that my eyebrows have been secretly plotting a merger and are dangerously close to forming a uni-brow.

Ugh! How did I let this happen? In the back of my head, I could hear my best friend's words from a recent conversation condemning me..."Let's vow never to leave the house looking like that!"

Needless to say, my plans to stop at the local coffeehouse while my daughter wraps up dance class have been indefinitely postponed. I don't dare venture out beyond the safety of my tinted windows. I have a knack for always running into someone I know on those very rare moments when I look...well...unglamorous.

Milestones

Skip Hop Backpack

That day has finally come! I have mixed emotions about it, ranging from sheer joy to nervous apprehension. I completed my son’s application for preschool and he’s officially enrolled to begin in September. Oh how the years fly by…he’ll be three by the end of the month. What a journey it has been!

And what an application process—endless pages upon pages of personal questions, on double-sided paper, no less!

Seriously? C’mon, it’s preschool, not Harvard!

I have never had a fondness for filling out applications to begin with, so the process was a little daunting. Part of my apprehension came from the fact that it had to be completed in handwriting, which ultimately meant it ended up looking like it was completed by a five-year-old.

Throw in the added element of having to reveal personal information to a complete stranger, and I was at a loss for words—ironic, I know. It’s not that I have a problem sharing personal information (ahem, hence the blog) it’s just that I don’t perform as well on-command.

Truthfully, it wasn’t so much the nature of the questions that made me uncomfortable, as it was the nature of the potential answers...hmm, how honest is too honest?

While the questions seemed innocent enough, the potential for embarrassment was as infinite as the vastness of the universe...

Here’s a sample of the questions and my initial thoughts, followed by my revised responses:

    1.   What are your child’s interests?
     The first thought that came to mind:
   Farting, burping, mooning, and anything else that will get a laugh.
     What I actually wrote:
   Enjoys playing with cars and building with blocks.

     2.   Is your child potty-trained?
      What I thought:
    Yes…but he does need some supervision, as his aim is terrible. Every once in a while, he may have a mishap, as he becomes completely engrossed in his play, and forgets to go. Lastly, if he needs to do #2, bring a paper…like the New York Times…or a novel…it might be a while.
     What I wrote:
    Yes.

     3.    Is there anything you would like to share about your child’s behavior that would be helpful to us?
      My immediate thought:
     Don’t make him angry. You won’t like him when he’s angry.
      I wrote:
     He has a difficult time coping with transitions, and becomes emotionally distressed when presented with change.

I know...I was pretty impressed with my answers too! In the end, I think I did a fairly decent job of suppressing my innate sarcasm and delicately treaded through that fine line between being truthful and sharing too much in information like the best of them.

To be completely honest, I know in my heart that the hardest part about completing that application was accepting the fact I’m just one milestone closer to letting go and letting him become that wonderful man I know he will someday be. At least I have until September to get him prepared for school…it looks like we have some minor work to do in the area of potty-training and social skills, like anger management.

The Age of Innocence

Bing.com image search

My daughter spent part of yesterday’s “snow day” joyfully prancing around the house in her frilly pink tutu and bejeweled tiara, which she affectionately refers to as her crown.

“Crowns make people beautiful,” she said to me in a very matter-of-fact manner.

“Yes, that’s right,” I agreed, trying to keep a straight face as I visualized an old and wrinkled queen wearing a crown.

“I guess the crown just doesn’t work for everyone,” I laughed quietly to myself.

As I watched her perfecting the art of twirling in circles while balancing a crown on her head, I wondered when that day will come when she feels too old to play dress up and dance like a princess. Sometimes she tells me she wants to be older. If only she knew that when you are finally old enough to be “older”, you wish you could be younger.

So in that fleeting moment, as she was blissfully waltzing around the living room without a care in the world, with a tinge of sadness, I tried not to think about tomorrow, as tomorrow inevitably always comes whether or not you’re ready for it.

Reading Between the Lines

Anthony pouring his own cereal

Does the phrase, "I did it myself," make you a little nervous? Well, it should! Remember the baby butt cream incident?

In my experience, there are a few catchphrases our children use to alert us to the fact that either they are about to or already have done something they shouldn't have. In either case, swift and immediate action should be taken upon hearing any one of these phrases. I know this because on two recent occasions where I ignored the warning signs, I ended up with a flooded bathroom and a toddler covered in red lipstick (not in the same day, of course, as that would have been enough to put me over the edge, which for some odd reason feels like it's getting closer and closer...hmm...weird). I share this with you so that you may be forewarned and spared the calamity.

Here are the top 3 phrases your children use to alert you about trouble up ahead, and what they mean for you:

When your child says...

1. "I did it myself!"

What your child really means is...

"I know I shouldn't have tried this on my own, but...I did it anyway."

This phrase is a mixed bag, as on the one hand, you can't help but feel a measure of pride over your child's semi-accomplishment, but on the other hand, it usually involves cleaning up some kind of mess. The picture at the top of this entry was one of those independent moments where my son tried to pour his own cereal (sigh).

When your child says...

2. "I have to go pee-pee!!!"

What your child really means is...

"I snuck in two extra juice boxes while you weren't looking and actually needed to go well over an hour ago but was too busy playing, and now I am about to pee on myself."

Always take this one seriously, as failure to do so will result in some floor-washing and laundry time. One time my son told me he had to go while I was driving, and although I realize now I should have just pulled over immediately, I told him not to go in the car and that I was going to find the nearest bathroom. I glanced in the rear-view mirror and noticed he did not look all that distressed for someone who was just urgently pleading to go, so I asked him if had gone in the car...he calmly and confidently reassured me that he didn't go in the car: "NOPE! I just went in my pants" (exasperated sigh).

Finally, when your child screams...

3. "MOMMM!!!!"

What your child really means is...

"Something really bad just happened."

Run! Run like the wind and be prepared for anything! Although this is the most ambiguous of all phrases as it could mean almost anything, it's also the most ominous of them all. In my experience, it could mean anything from someone is stuck somewhere they shouldn't be or something really special and sentimentally valuable has been broken. Honestly, I have never heard my name screamed like this when something good happens. No, it's bad, really bad, like the time the bathroom was flooded and Anthony was covered head-to-toe in red lipstick (really long and drawn out sigh).

Don't Ask, Don't Tell

My husband and I have adopted our own unofficial don't ask, don't tell policy, because sometimes, you really just don't want to know. Now, don't worry, it's nowhere near as controversial as the military's policy; it has to do with our children. Let's backtrack to last Sunday and you'll see what I mean...

I like to sleep in on the weekends, and by sleeping in, I mean staying in bed until at least 8:00 a.m. I know, I know...for those of you who don't have children, you are probably thinking to yourself, "8:00 a.m.??? That's the time I normally wake up! What do you mean you slept in?" Meanwhile, those of you who have young babies are hating me for being able to stay in bed sooooo late. It's a matter of perspective.

Well, on this particular Sunday, I was awake, but stayed in bed, just because I could. My daughter was generously preparing breakfast for me, and so I was forced to stay in bed until she was ready. It was horrible—OK, no, it was really great. I could have stayed in there forever, but eventually, the tantalizing aroma of freshly brewed coffee and piercing shrieks emanating from the kitchen drew me out of my room.

What a beautiful sight! Fresh coffee was waiting for me on a table spread with yummy breakfast delights personally prepared by my daughter-why, there were even candles on the table! I dove right into the Greek yogurt sprinkled with dark chocolate and walnuts and munched away blissfully. Everything was going great until I realized that the plate it was served in came from the decorative display cupboard in the dining room...you know, the one you only dust when company comes over...the one with the cobwebs? Gasp!

My enthusiasm for devouring my breakfast faded instantly. It was replaced with nervousness and apprehension.

My mind wandered...
Did she remember to...
Of course she would never serve food on a plate without...
OK, just don't think about eating dust and cobwebs—Oh no! Now that's all I can think about!

Without raising suspicion, I tried to casually glance over at my husband to see if he had noticed anything unusual about his breakfast, but the alarm in my eyes immediately tipped him off.

"Do you think she..." he began to inquire nervously.

"Don't ask," I muttered under my breath.

"But what if..." he continued.

"Do you really want to know?" I asked, cutting him off.

We paused and stared at each other, then down at our plates, and finally, back at my daughter, who was beaming with pride at the beautiful spread she had worked so hard to prepare for us, eagerly awaiting for us to take our next bites.

"Mmm! This is so yummy!" I declared.

My husband quickly followed suit:

"Yes, did I ever tell you that you are my favorite daughter?" he asked, knowing full well this always gets a smile out of her because she is our only daughter.

And with that, we dropped the conversation about whether or not she washed the dishes before serving us, and continued eating our questionable breakfast. Some things are just better left unsaid.

Separation Anxiety

I was suffering from separation anxiety today. I felt so distracted at work, and I just couldn't wait to get home. I fidgeted, bit my lips, and kept checking the time. I just didn't know what to do with myself.

I forgot my iPhone.

I know...you were probably thinking I was having difficulty separating from my children. While I have had my share of those days, that wasn't it today. When I don't have a coffee in one hand and a baby in the other, the vacancy is usually occupied by my iPhone. I felt so lost without it. I guess I'm a bit of a tech junkie.

My iPhone is my constant companion on my on-the-go life. It is my instant portal to family and friends. I realize I would do very poorly in solitary confinement.

Thankfully, we are re-united, and it feels so good! There were no hard feelings between us, not even the awkward, "Why did you leave me?" moment. Whew! Glad that's over.

Idiot Friends

It's 'blame everyone else Tuesday'. How do I know? My best friend told me so.

Not making any sense? It's not supposed to. It was a text message I got from my friend this morning. You see, one of my best friends and I keep in touch throughout the week by sending each other ridiculous texts purely for the sake of being ridiculous. The more absurd, the better. I don't remember exactly how we got started, probably on a late night when our babies truly were just itsy bitsy newborns and we would text one another to see if the other was awake. It evolved from "R u awake" to texts so stupidly funny I have actually spit out my coffee laughing.

Why do we do it? Besides the obvious-why not?-there is a more profound reason for the foolish shenanegans. It's our special way of holding onto our friendship and our sanity despite our super busy, sometimes chaotic, often stressful working mother lives. I look forward to the nonsense banter that's refreshingly light and carefree compared to my not-so-carefree life.

So if you are reading this, my precious idiot friend who boldly dares me to laugh a little every day and not take life too seriously, I finally finished my list! It's a good thing the maid and the nanny and chef and the driver took care of everything because it took all day. Tomorrow is 'name that lipstick color Wednesday', so brush up at the MAC counter!

Have you texted a friend today?