Prepare to Be Humbled

Recently, a friend of mine (who's about to welcome a beautiful little girl into their family) asked if she could put me on speed dial for parenting advice. I'm going to respond with my new motto for moms, "Prepare to Be Humbled".

For months, I have been working off all the baby weight that Miss M so graciously left behind. And I've been pleased with the progress I've made to this point. With a couple of Weight Watchers gold stars under my belt, my goal is in sight (still a long way off, but in sight, nonetheless).

So, I bought myself a cute little sundress the other day. It was on sale and it was in a bright, summery color. I loved the empire waistline and the comfy cotton material, a style that made it a perfect piece to dress up for work or throw over a swimsuit for the beach.

I was really excited about it. Until Drew got really excited when I was wearing it the other day. He gasped out loud, pointed toward my belly and said, "MOM! You have another baby in your tummy - YEY!!!!"

Uh... No I don't.

"Yes! Yes you do! LOOK!"

My son poked at my post-baby belly, pointing out what was apparently obvious.

I'm sorry to disappoint you, son, but I do NOT have another baby in my belly. That's just leftover from Miss M.

"Oh..."

I walked quickly to the kitchen (with no small amount of horror on my face) and relayed the conversation to my husband.

I turned and walked out of the room as he began lecturing Drew, but all I caught was the beginning ("Buddy!! Never ever EVER EVER...)

So, I'm looking for that roll of duct tape again for him. And something with the words "Control Top" for me, I guess!

The Finer Things In Life

I've said for a while now that Miss M has an affinity for the finer things. From the first few days of her life when she laid in her swing, bathing in the sunlight (jaundice)




to the infant massage class we took when she was just a few weeks old, I could tell that this girl didn't mind being pampered.

She adores watching me trim her little fingernails. She tilts her head back while I brush her hair. And she loves a nice warm bath more than just about anything.

This quality of hers makes me giddy with anticipation. Someday, I imagine mother-daughter trips to the spa for manicures, pedicures and various other pamperings.

Apparently, her exquisite taste extends beyond spa treatments to expensive, well, TASTE...

I mean, only in a four-star restaurant could you find gourmet selections suitable for this girl's palate.


Frog Legs


Duck Pate


Octopus

That is one quality she did not inherit from her mother. I often say that my taste buds most closely resemble those of a five-year old boy (corndogs, macaroni & cheese, & grilled cheese sandwiches are among my favorites).

The other day, I walked out onto my mom's pool deck where, no kidding, Miss M was propped up on the pillows of a lounge chair and her grandma was feeding her grapes (peeled and cut up, of course!). I laughed out loud at the sight.

But I LOVE IT. Because I know that someday, when ESPN runs live, weekend-long coverage of lacrosse and softball and baseball and soccer and curling and frisbee dog competitions, the little lady and I will be far far away, flipping through magazines while our pedicures dry.

And snacking on escargot.
Or, in my case, corndogs.

It All Evens Out

This is for the mom who is worried that her pudgy newborn boy is consistently "off the charts" in weight and height and may grow up to be the next "Andre the Giant".

Someday, he'll be five years old. And he'll be the perfect height for a boy his age. And he'll be so slim that you'll stop after his doctor's check up to feed the poor kid a doughnut. With sprinkles.

This is for the mom who worries that her son's affinity for the adventurous as a toddler means a future full of broken bones and ER visits.

Someday, he'll be five years old. And he'll be a little smarter and more sophisticated about the adventures he attempts because you let him fall off the monkey bars once or twice way back then.

This is for the mom who is worried about the fact that her two-year old boy only grunts and points while his preschool pals are speaking in three and four word sentences.

Someday, he'll be sitting at his five-year check-up with his pediatrician sharing stories about t-ball and putt putt golf and his baby sister and bicycle safety and carseat safety and the school he's attending next year and his favorite color and the time he hit himself in the eye with a basketball and who his dentist is and what he ate for breakfast and his new preference for vegetables and how silly it is that he's sitting in his underwear on an examining table and that he's pleased with the results of his blood pressure reading and that he's excited over the fact that he doesn't need any shots when he's five...

and the pediatrician will tell you (when she finds the opportunity to jump into the conversation) that, "We're not worried about his vocabulary, that's for sure!"

And this is for the mom whose five year old constantly interrupts when grown-ups are talking and has a hard time remembering to use his manners and leaves his dirty clothes strewn around the house and bubble gum wrappers on the kitchen counter.

Oh, wait... that's me.

Any good advice out there for THIS mom?

Double Trouble

Seriously... have you ever seen a cuter pair of boys?


Drew and his cousin have really grown close this year. And his cousin has just... well... GROWN! Austin, a full year younger than my son, appears to have finally surpassed Drew in height.

I love how pictures tend to capture personalities.

And we got a few great "personality-capturing" shots over the Mother's Day weekend.

Like this one...


And this one...

(My brother and sister-in-law's beautiful daughter)

And, let's face it - this captures my husband's personality, too!

("Let me just read the instructions...")

Totally gratuitous, I know... but my entire purpose today is to subject you to pictures of the people who make me happy!

Have a great day!

To The Point

I believe in beautifully written stories.
I am a fan of words.
I love a great conversation.

Therefore, I struggle with brevity.

And when I thought about writing a "Mother's Day"-themed post for yesterday, I crafted long, elegant paragraphs in my mind - thoughts about my own parenting, words to share with my mom, etc.

But yesterday morning, my five-year old skipped into the bathroom as I was getting ready for church with a sealed envelope in hand. He excitedly shoved it in my face and hopped up and down as I peeled back the flap and slid out the card.

I opened it up, and heard my son's little high-pitched five-year-old recorded voice say, "Happy Mother's Day, Mommy! I love you! (followed by a few incomprehensible gurgles from Miss M)".

I closed the card and gave each of my children and their daddy a big hug.

"Thank you." I said. "I will keep this card forever. It's the best gift you could have ever given me."

I've listened to it at least twenty times over the past twenty-four hours. With his slight preschool speech impediments, it sounds more like he's saying, "Happy Muvvah's Day, Mommy! I wuv you!"

It is priceless and perfect and captures the very best about what I want to remember of this stage of life.

In seven words.

I have a lot to learn from my kids.



(P.S., to my own mom... Happy Mother's Day, Mom! I love you!)

"What I (Don't) Want to Be When I Grow Up"

Here's a little spin on the "oldie-but-goodie" creative writing assignment.

What I Don't Want to Be When I Grow Up (by A.M. Mama... age 33)

When I grow up, I do not want to be a baker. Specifically, I hope that I will never, ever have to help support my family financially based on my skills as a baker and decorator of birthday cakes.

Here are a few reasons why:

First, I tend to view projects with a big-picture focus. This is useful when approaching issues like bed-wetting ("Well, he won't wear a diaper when he goes off to college. I'm sure we'll figure this out soon!"). It is considerably less useful when fine details like ingredient measurements and oven temperatures are important to the overall success of the project.

Second, I am over-confident. I will look at the picture of something designed by a professional and think to myself, "I can do that!"

Third, I am trusting. I actually believe the step-by-step instructions that promise me I CAN make my creation look just like the picture of something designed by a professional.

And finally, I am not neat. In leiu of an explanation, I will introduce "Exhibit A":



This is the cake I made for my son's fifth birthday.
He wanted a basketball cake.
I wanted to call the local bakery to make it.
I wanted to laugh out loud when I found out how much the bakery wanted to charge.
I decided to save some money and make the cake myself.




The Twizzlers really jazzed it up, I think:



The birthday party-ers had a treat for the senses. In addition to the craftsmanship, the baking left a bit to be desired. Or to be cooked, as it were. My mother-in-law took a bite of her piece and exclaimed, "Oh! There's pudding inside! How wonderful!"

"Um... nope, no pudding in there!! Ok, everyone. Stay away from the center of the cake, please! Apparently it did not get cooked!!"

In conclusion, if I had to bake and decorate birthday cakes for a living, my family would starve.

The Double Standard(s)

I recently realized that, as a parent, I have some pretty major double standards.


For instance, my son pretty much dresses himself every day. And I pretty much never have anything to say about what he decides to wear. Sometimes his clothes don't match (ok, often his clothes don't match). Sometimes, his hair goes unbrushed. Most Sundays I coax him into some appropriate attire, but the other six days of the week are all his.


I gave him this freedom around 2 years old. I'll never forget some of the ensembles he picked when we started off. For a period of time, all his outfits included a black pair of soccer socks that, because of his tiny stature, went all the way up to his underwear. Friends would ask me to explain his clothing. I didn't have much to say. I considered making stickers for him to wear out in public ("I dressed myself today"), but decided that it was probably my ego worried about what people thought so I let it go.


He has the same free reign with his hair (much to the chagrin of all grandparents, I'm pretty sure). In fact, this week, we spiked his golden mop into a semi-mohawk-ish do for CLASS PICTURES! He was thrilled, and the rebel in me was kind of excited about it, too!


But, as some dear friends (and mothers of girls, to lend some credentials to their opinions) pointed out, I am definitely not (nor will I be in the future) that same kind of mom with my daughter.


In my mind, she will be my dress-up doll until maybe middle school. And she WILL wear hairbows!


Beyond their appearances, I have discovered another inconsistency in my expectations. With Drew, I constantly pushed him toward developmental milestones. Rolling, sitting, standing, walking, riding a bike, playing tball... for five years we have given this kid every incentive to live his life in the fast lane. And it's been a thrilling ride as a mom to watch him conquer these first five years of life. I've loved every minute of it.


But with Miss M, I just want her to be my rockabye baby for as long as I can hold on to her. I am saddened by her milestones as much as I'm proud of her for accomplishing them. I am in no hurry for this snuggly sweetheart to find some independence.


I reckon that my parenting problems aren't so uncommon, considering the circumstances.


He's a boy.

She's a girl.

He's my first.

She's my last... Of course I'm going to relate differently to them.


But there's no double standard in the love department. Just a double dose of crazy, abundant, all-out mommy love for these two kids.