A Mommy Moment

I can tell that I am out of balance when my social graces start disappearing. When I’m out of whack my expectations become a tad unreasonable, my patience is thin, and holding my tongue takes extra-ordinary will power. So, what’s an out of balance stay-at-home-mom to do? Let’s go to the mall! And so we (me, Ave, and Ro) did just that.

Let me begin by saying that fat people and summer don’t mix (and yes, I’m speaking from experience). I’m total chub-club right now, and I swear I can feel every extra inch, bind, etcetera, when it is warm outside. I can tolerate it to a point, but beyond that, forget it. I’m totally scoping out the nearest air-conditioned hideaway.

So, I’m hot and my mood is fair, teetering on foul. Avery’s had a 0 for 2 record on the potty this morning, and had royally ticked me off by biting Romey. Mix in a little extra bossiness from my fair Avery and everything’s churning just fine. I’m determined though—we’ve got a few quick errands to do, and I’m thinking we can do it. We’re in the car, and we’re off.

We make it to the mall, and we’re unloading the double-stroller, and Avery decides that she doesn’t want to ride in the stroller today. Channeling my inner sweet mommy I tell her, “Sorry, honey, but you’ve got to ride in the stroller.” So I buckle her in—mind you it is a buckle that she can’t un-buckle—and we’re off to the first store.

Well, Avery still doesn’t want to ride in the stroller, so she bucks, and yells, and screams, “HELP!” Great, right? You know the drill—I can’t touch the kid. I can try to reason with her, negotiate with her, give her “the look,” and pull every piece of candy or food item from my purse to try and quiet my out-of-control three-year-old. When I first became a mom it really bothered me to have the out-of-control child. The curious glances and stares were really unsettling to me. Now I just kind of roll with it—knowing that my turn’s up today, and that the gawking mom’s turn will be up tomorrow. I’d be lying though to not admit that I’m thinking that they’re thinking that I’m the crappiest mom in the world, and that they just might be right. ;) But I’m embracing my crappiness, and am going to conquer these errands, and take no prisoners in the process.

This set the scene for two lapses in social graces. I won’t even document them because I know I blew it. I knew I had a choice to make, and I made the wrong one—twice. And I know that what I say sometimes isn’t nearly as bad as the looks I’m capable of giving. However, on this particular day my repertoire of looks wasn’t getting me anywhere—Avery was still bucking the system, and I was really getting annoyed with the kid. Romey’s still smiling, chewing on a toy, and Avery’s going berserk. What’s with this kid?

So, who should appear?—a woman in total headdress, covered head to toe in black drapery (except for her eyes). Avery starts gawking, and really who can blame her? I don’t dress in a headdress, and she’s probably never seen someone dressed like that before. It’s different; it’s curious. So, at the top of her lungs, Avery says, “Like Jesus!” Huh? Okay, I’m not making the connection either. Avery keeps repeating herself, the clerk is going on and on about their rewards program, and I’m desperately clicking my crocs together thinking get me out of here!

We did make it out of there, but without the help of an able-bodied gentleman who just stood there with this thumb up his......while I was struggling to get two kids (one of whom is bucking and crying), a double stroller, and some bags out of the mall exit. Seriously? Give a sister a hand!

Okay, we’re good. Thanks for going a little crazy with me. Praise God for a trip to Pleasantville. It’s time to pass the baton.

What We Do For Our Kids

Dan has been very busy with work lately, so I decided to take Avery to a Ralph’s World concert on Saturday. For those of you that aren’t familiar with Ralph, he does little mini-concerts/shows on the Disney Channel. He sings silly kid songs that Avery thinks are pretty cool. So, on Saturday, I figured, “hey, a couple of our playgroup friends will be at the concert and Avery loves Ralph’s World, so why not?”

Well, it seems that 4,000 others had the same idea, and as we got closer to the concert site, I saw the lines and lines of SUV’s and minivans, many of which were jamming out to Ralph tunes. Although we were there well in advance of the concert starting, we parked a good mile out from the concert site (well, it felt like a mile—the rough terrain, and Avery in tow made it feel like a mile plus!)

So, we left the minivan lot and headed toward the concert area. I couldn’t help but notice all the strollers and wagons—WOW. I thought, “Okay Avery, you better love this!”

The concert started and Avery sort of liked the first song. Then she sat in my lap, and started grabbing my face and saying “bye-bye?” Perhaps it was the heat? Maybe the loud music, or the 4,000 other attendees?

You know what’s funny about a kid’s rock concert? When you look around many of the kids are just kind of hanging out. You know who’s jamming? You’re right: the parents. It was then (six songs later, towing Avery back to the car), it came to me: “Gosh, what we do for our kids!” We often look like dummies, and go to a kid’s rock concert. But isn’t that part of what this is all about, loving our kids, and, at times, looking foolish in the process? At least this is self-realization foolishness. Many years from now Avery will likely be telling me how foolish or dumb she thinks I am. And I’ll likely say, “You’re right.”

On a much more serious and somber note, Dan’s grandfather passed away on Friday evening. Although he had been ill for sometime now, the reality and permanency of death can still be difficult to fully embrace and acknowledge.

So, while Dan’s gone Avery and I will do our best to stay busy. One thing’s for sure: no more concerts.