23 Monday Apr 2012
Posted in Hope
Hope: Mom, can I go jogging at six? I’ll ask to be dropped off if it’s too late for me to drive.
Me: Ok, be careful. Don’t want you to get hit. Use my reflective jacket.
Hope: Reflective jacket? What? Lol.
What?!
Because it’s Monday and Murphy is playing cruel jokes on me, here’s a bit of humor from This Is Not That Blog.
25 Sunday Mar 2012
Posted in raising Hope
I never knew how to be a mommy of a little girl because I never had either. Sort of like the powder blue bunny curtains I sewed by hand the week before you were born. They turned out to be the prettiest thing I ever made despite never having sewn a thing in my life.
What I’m trying to say, my little flower from heaven, is that you can do anything you dare to dream even when you think you can’t. You taught me that.
29 Wednesday Feb 2012
Posted in Tooth Fairy
Photo by Elizabeth Esther on 8 Tooth Fairy Excuses
I am wonderful and also horrible. I’m a great mommy, a decent Santa and a fantastic Easter Bunny. But today…
I am totally contemplating outing the Tooth Fairy for good reasons, the most compelling being the fact that the Tooth Fairy (A.K.A. mom) is a major loser! I hate myself right now. I hate the Tooth Fairy too, which compounds the problem.
Two weeks ago I totally effed up, but saved myself by blaming it on TF’s inability to read coordinates.
Sommer: Here mom. It’s my tooth, you can have it.
Me: Why? (kick, kick, kicking myself in the behind)
Sommer: The Tooth Fairy didn’t come.
Me: Well, maybe she put the money under the wrong pillow, did you sleep on it? You’re supposed to sleep on it.
Sommer: It was under the pillow in my room, but I slept with Peyton in her room.
Me: Well that’s why! She got all confused! She probably looked for you and then when she didn’t find anything under you’re pillow, she just left. She should have left a note.
Sommer: Oh! (smile) Ok mommy, I’ll put it under the pillow I sleep on tonight.
Me: (Whew: Relief. I lied: Guilt. Shame: I’m going to hell for this.)
Sommer has lost three teeth in the past three weeks and only once was TF on the ball. She lost her second front tooth while I was off island.
My sister Yvette: While you were gone, Sommer lost a tooth.
Me: silence
Yvette: Mari gave her $3
Me: Great Mari, just great. (Since when did the Tooth Fairy pay per capita?)
Yvette: She figured one dollar for each person in the house.
Me: silence (Mari is a skinny overachiever. I hate Mari.)
Last night, Sommer lost another tooth and I reminded myself over and over again not to forget to put a dollar under her pillow. ONE DOLLAR cause it’s me, mom, Tooth Fairy Cheapskate. And, why does it have to be a financial contribution anyway? What’s with the Tooth Fairy? Are times so hard in Fairy Land that she can’t get with the program and offer something nutritional or educational? This is why the Tooth Fairy has no kids of her own.
I forgot.
So, I’m thinking of telling Sommer that I am the Tooth Fairy and that I suck, and being very forthcoming with my inadequacies as a collector of teeth even though I did endure the hardships of pregnancy for her. There are repercussions to doing this. I’d ruin it for Santa Claus, the Easter Bunny…Taotaomona. I don’t know if I’m ready for that responsibility. It’s one thing to assume the role under false pretenses, but a completely different story when you officially take over. If Sommer knew I was Santa Claus, I couldn’t get her to behave by threatening her with giftlessness. Christmas would then be for naught, because the joy of blackmailing your children during the holidays is a mother’s most precious gift.
06 Friday Jan 2012
Posted in raising peyton
Tags
She couldn’t have picked a worse time, poor thing. I came home completely spent. I ate dinner slowly, drowning out the sounds around me, trying really hard not to look like I had a rough day. Then she asked if I could make something with her and every ounce of my body wanted to say “no”; it wanted to cry “NO!”. All I wanted to do was eat something and jump into my pajamas and for everyone to forget I existed for a little while. I nodded my head and kept eating. I could see, with each finished bite, how excited she was getting. “You better freaking pull your shit together,” I tell myself. She offered to wipe the dinner table down and helped clear the dishes. I knew I had to muster the last bit of energy I had or I’d be forever sorry. If I didn’t do this, I would forfeit a memory and she would never forgive me. One day when she is 35 she’ll be having lunch with her girlfriends and she’ll tell them about the night her mom flaked on a promise to spend time with her. “And that’s why I never wear charms!” she’ll slam her fist on the table and say (because she’s a fist slammin’ gal at 35) and they’ll all make a toast to crappy mothers and pledge to rid the world of charms.
I stumbled around the craft drawer, found my beads, tools and wire and asked her to decide what she wanted to make. Her face lit up as she sifted through crystals, pastel beads, little teapots, monkeys and silver balls. “I love making stuff with you mommy. Creating things is so much fun. I think I get that from you, you’re such a good creator.” The guilt crept in like a big ugly black marker stain on chart paper; seeping out of my heart and bleeding into my bones. “I love you mommy, so much, so so much.” I was still tired and still drained, and I wasn’t having fun, but I was humbled and grateful that she was. This love that came so easily belonged to me and it didn’t require much from me, just a yes. This child sitting beside me didn’t care how I looked or even how much I could give, all she wanted was for me to share a few moments with her.
Those are the days when I have to push myself beyond myself and believe that better days are ahead, but still manage to be in the present. That’s what my grandmother meant when she said a mother will sacrifice anything for her children. It’s not money or fame, or even material trappings. Sometimes the sacrifice is the last thread of serenity you’re hanging by, but the rewards are immeasurable.
