This Mom's Life
This morning, I stepped on a pile of coats and something coughed. My son plays with his chainsaw while we listen to KidZBop Christmas tunes on the way to school each day. There's a tangled-up wig on the banister and my daughter just came downstairs without any clothes. The turtle's new home made him turn blue and my son is napping with tongs. Ironically, this is nothing out of the ordinary...welcome to this Mom's life.
When did it get so...weird?
The other day, I looked at my old yearbooks with my oldest children. They were laughing hysterically at the pictures. I looked at them: my son had pudding all over his face (where'd he get pudding?) and my daughter was wearing mismatched shoes, a pink wig and had colored all over herself in green marker. Sigh. My youngest son told me there's a monster under his bed that bites his back while he sleeps, and there's a tree that talks to him on the way home from school and says bad things like "worms." Occasionally, he whips out his AC/DC wristbands and wears them to bed to keep him "nice and cozy" (his words, not mine). He refuses to blow his nose and instead uses his tongue to squeegee the constant nose-run off his upper lip. But he likes to snuggle. And he lets me kiss his chubby little cheeks whenever I want.
Little Meems may wear tangled up, matted pink wigs, but she likes to play with my hair, pushing it out of my face as she says her prayers at night in the sweetest, most loving way.
My oldest son may be coated in pudding or whatever he had for lunch that day, but he doesn't want anyone but me when he's upset. And sometimes, for no reason at all.
So, despite the general strangeness of my life, and maybe even my children, I'll take it if it means that the weirdness is accompanied by the good stuff. Like snuggles, and kisses and hair stroking.
And lots of funny stories to tell them when they're older.
Besides, I'll know where to turn if I ever lose my hair.
When did it get so...weird?
The other day, I looked at my old yearbooks with my oldest children. They were laughing hysterically at the pictures. I looked at them: my son had pudding all over his face (where'd he get pudding?) and my daughter was wearing mismatched shoes, a pink wig and had colored all over herself in green marker. Sigh. My youngest son told me there's a monster under his bed that bites his back while he sleeps, and there's a tree that talks to him on the way home from school and says bad things like "worms." Occasionally, he whips out his AC/DC wristbands and wears them to bed to keep him "nice and cozy" (his words, not mine). He refuses to blow his nose and instead uses his tongue to squeegee the constant nose-run off his upper lip. But he likes to snuggle. And he lets me kiss his chubby little cheeks whenever I want.
Little Meems may wear tangled up, matted pink wigs, but she likes to play with my hair, pushing it out of my face as she says her prayers at night in the sweetest, most loving way.
My oldest son may be coated in pudding or whatever he had for lunch that day, but he doesn't want anyone but me when he's upset. And sometimes, for no reason at all.
So, despite the general strangeness of my life, and maybe even my children, I'll take it if it means that the weirdness is accompanied by the good stuff. Like snuggles, and kisses and hair stroking.
And lots of funny stories to tell them when they're older.
Besides, I'll know where to turn if I ever lose my hair.
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