Being THAT Mom

I tend to be that mom on opposite ends of the spectrum. Sometimes I'm that mom in a take-myself-way-too-seriously kind of way where I get way too caught up in my first-world problems and desires. Like yesterday.

 

Yesterday, I was looking in Target for new shoes for Bella. I just happened to find a super-cool pair on sale, so I was pretty proud of myself. In the middle of shopping, I got a text from my friend, Emily, asking if we wanted to come over and play. Since we were already out of the house and I was starting to yell, I mean, whisper lovingly to the girls to stop touching each other FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THAT IS GOOD AND HOLY...it seemed like a great idea to take them to someone else's house to get out all of that extra "energy".

 

And that's when I became that mom. I suddenly thought it was a necessity to buy Bella a shirt that matched her new shoes. You know, so she would be color-coordinated for her playdate. (You're very welcome, Emily.) And since I was already in a shopping mood, I bought myself a new sweater that I wore to the playdate, too.

 

We actually changed in the Target bathroom before getting in the car and heading to Emily's house.

 

Oh my word, I can't believe I admitted that out loud. I sound like such a tool!

 

In these cases, Mel or Whitney usually just lovingly mock me until I get over myself and return to the real world. Well, Mel mocks; Whitney tends to just stare at me with a knowing expression until I cave. I'm always grateful. (I actually confessed to Emily, and she just smiled at me without calling me crazy to my face. Again, very grateful.)

 

Today I was that mom in a my-kids-are-way-too-dirty-to-actually-be-going-to-the-pediatrician's-office kind of way. I'm pretty sure God lets me be this kind of mom to keep me humble. It balances out the times I'm the other kind of crazy-eyed, materialistic, too-cool-for-school mom. When I say that we only bathe the girls once a week, I'm not saying it to be cute or self-deprecating; we seriously only bathe them once a week. (Some of you need to go ahead and shudder or gag. It's okay; I'll wait.)

 

This morning was Evelyn's 18-month checkup. Except that she's 21 months old. Yeeeaaahh, I keep forgetting to make an appointment. (That mom.) One whole side of her head has white paint on it from when I was painting the playroom last Friday afternoon and Evelyn decided it would be a good time to try and reattach herself to my uterus. On the other side, she has cheese dip still dried and stuck in her hair from when Matt and Caroline were here on Saturday night. The girl can-NOT seem to eat cheese dip without looking like she mud wrestled in it.

 

I had great intentions to bathe her last night (BWAHAHA!), but Steve's doing a bank exam this week and didn't get home until 6:30. And yes, I'm perfectly capable of bathing her without Steve being here, but he's the one who normally bathes them, so I totally wussed out. Let's just say, a bath didn't happen.

 

So I got to be that mom this morning, and drag my child to the doctor for her check-up with paint and cheese dip dried into her hair, and crusty things behind her ears. Oh, and Bella hates to have her hair brushed, and I keep giving in and agreeing with her, so now she's got borderline dreads going on. We need to bath her, too.

 

Those were my mommy escapades this week. I just thought I'd confess to my "that mom" moments. The fun of being that mom is that I get to look back and chuckle at the things that I thought were disasters or screw-ups, realizing that they weren't so bad after all. I think Steve's going to make me return the sweater, but at least the doctor didn't seem to notice the dried cheese dip.