*Pop* Goes My Bubble

I was standing in line at the grocery store one day. I watched a mother holding her little one. I watched as she nuzzled her nose in her son’s soft, baby hair and then she just kissed, kissed, kissed that precious little head….  You can read the remainder my most recent post, “I Know That Love” at Type-A Mom…

So, that post, was one of those “mushy, gushy, lovey” mommy posts. A post written when hormones levels are at optimal balance. A post written on the heels of a child-free morning. A post I had been waiting to write for over 2 years. I was in a moment of maternal irrationality content.

Wanna know a secret? Come closer…

The minute I hit “publish” on any lovey-dovey post that might offer hope to parents… Hell rolls into town on all 4 wheels… 

Hmmm. What am I trying to say? Let me put it this way — I don’t pray for patience. When one prays for patience one prays for pain. In the same way, I am thinking of not writing the ooey-gooey-lovey-mommy stuff. It is Just. Like. Praying. For. Patience. 

Case in point, I wrote a post for Type-A Mom titled “A Mom Learns to Let Go of the Little Things“. In it I basically elude to the fact that I am O.K. if my kids must wear one flip-flop and one boot… I quote myself from the article: 

When I was dreaming of the perfect Pottery Barn nursery for my firstborn, I never imagined one day I would be grateful just to find one right and left shoe.

You know what happened the day after I published that article? My ability to truly “let go” was challenged. It was like The Cosmos was sayin’, “So. Let’s see whatcha got, there Missy.” BTW, “Cosmos”, my name isn’t “Missy”… I digress… All the children hopped in the car and I did a quick (read: QUICK) shoe check. We arrived at our destination, and at that point I discovered The Cosmos had handed me my maternal call-out… Lucy (the 3 year old) was, in fact, wearing matching rubber boots… green crocodile. How. Ever.

How. Stinkin’. Ev. Grrrrrr.

She was wearing one of her boots – toddler size 10… aaaaaand her brother’s boot – boy’s size 3. *ahem* But that’s not all – both were right footed boots. Every time she stepped, she stepped out of her brother’s boot. It wasn’t long before I was running errands with a shoeless preschooler, not to mention my realization I was a hypocrite. A mom who quickly learned she was not so great about letting go of the “little things”.

And then there is my most recent post about love. Lemmetellyasumthin’. Approximately 45 minutes after hitting “submit”, all hell broke loose. After a stern warning that Lucy was NOT to stand on the cabinet with rollers (the open-cabinet she is not allowed to interact with on any level, by the way)… she decided to roll the cabinet across my bedroom and proceded to — Dump. Out. All. The. Contents.

Whut?

*blinking*

I won’t embarrass myself bore you with the details of my handling of that situation, but suffice it to say I did NOT handle it well. At. All. I was so tempted to pull that post. Friends, when it comes down to it… mothering is one the most incredible things I can imagine doing. And on the very same hand… mothering has been one of the most humbling things I have ever experienced. I suppose without the challenges, the victories might not be feel so very sweet.

I’m off. It’s bedtime and the natives are restless… Pray for me them.

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