I get it now.
I used to roll my eyes at people who would live park in front of stores and post offices to run in, leaving their child parked in the car. While I still feel anxious for the children in the car when I see the parent actually go in to the establishment, I have been known to stand at the door on more than one occasion offering the clerk a tip if she will please just hand-deliver the milk to the door and take my money without making me come in.
I have also seen the light when it comes to parents who hissed like angry cats at their children in line at the grocery store. If my two choices are child gone wild, or hissing under my breath to try and get out of the store without losing my mind, I will hiss. I have hissed. I will likely hiss again.
Self-esteem and parenting a toddler are non-correlates in my house. For example, today as I loaded warehouse boxes of diapers and laundry soap into the car, Miss Five stated loudly "I think your hair would look nicer if it was all one color Mama." Um-hmm, I'm sure it would. The question at this point in the game, is which one is the dominant color? And where does one go to buy gray hair colorant? Moment later as I struggled Little One into the car seat, she assumed her angry starfish pose. (Don't remember that from your tai chi and yoga classes? It's because they only teach Zen-like, meditative poses. The angry starfish is taught in the more aggressive, martial arts classes.)
Anyhow, a wardrobe malfunction occurred. Janet Jackson would be proud. Little One announced to the parking spaces nearest us, full on a Saturday morning at a warehouse store, "Mama, your bubbles are out of your shirt." Yes, bubbles. I do not have the stamina to try and change her mind right now. I'm barely head above water as it is. Now that I am completely brought to my knees by my children it's time to slink to the cart corral, and get the hell out of Dodge.
And finally, I used to nod along with Clinton and Stacy when they would castigate a mother for wearing "Mom jeans" or the floral "I give up" dress. Seriously, I don't know what reality those two think most moms live in, but in my world, it's a good day if the floral dress a) is clean, b) fits, c) doesn't need ironing, d) is only marginally wrinkled, e) any or all of the above. Color coordinating my shoes and scarf or bag? Get real. Making sure I have a pop of color? I'm sure the kids will spill something on me later….Voila!
I used to roll my eyes at people who would live park in front of stores and post offices to run in, leaving their child parked in the car. While I still feel anxious for the children in the car when I see the parent actually go in to the establishment, I have been known to stand at the door on more than one occasion offering the clerk a tip if she will please just hand-deliver the milk to the door and take my money without making me come in.
I have also seen the light when it comes to parents who hissed like angry cats at their children in line at the grocery store. If my two choices are child gone wild, or hissing under my breath to try and get out of the store without losing my mind, I will hiss. I have hissed. I will likely hiss again.
Self-esteem and parenting a toddler are non-correlates in my house. For example, today as I loaded warehouse boxes of diapers and laundry soap into the car, Miss Five stated loudly "I think your hair would look nicer if it was all one color Mama." Um-hmm, I'm sure it would. The question at this point in the game, is which one is the dominant color? And where does one go to buy gray hair colorant? Moment later as I struggled Little One into the car seat, she assumed her angry starfish pose. (Don't remember that from your tai chi and yoga classes? It's because they only teach Zen-like, meditative poses. The angry starfish is taught in the more aggressive, martial arts classes.)
Anyhow, a wardrobe malfunction occurred. Janet Jackson would be proud. Little One announced to the parking spaces nearest us, full on a Saturday morning at a warehouse store, "Mama, your bubbles are out of your shirt." Yes, bubbles. I do not have the stamina to try and change her mind right now. I'm barely head above water as it is. Now that I am completely brought to my knees by my children it's time to slink to the cart corral, and get the hell out of Dodge.
And finally, I used to nod along with Clinton and Stacy when they would castigate a mother for wearing "Mom jeans" or the floral "I give up" dress. Seriously, I don't know what reality those two think most moms live in, but in my world, it's a good day if the floral dress a) is clean, b) fits, c) doesn't need ironing, d) is only marginally wrinkled, e) any or all of the above. Color coordinating my shoes and scarf or bag? Get real. Making sure I have a pop of color? I'm sure the kids will spill something on me later….Voila!
