Sit down, Mommy!
That’s what he says all the time, my two-year old. He doesn’t mean it in the “stop and smell the roses” sense, he means it in the “sit down next to me RIGHT HERE MOMMY and read me this book / watch Bob the Builder again / tell me a story one more time” sense.
And I try, I really do. I usually say, “I will, honey, I will. As soon as I finish washing this dish / unloading the dryer / paying this bill / wiping the counter / checking my email / changing your brother’s diaper / finding your father’s cell phone…and so on.
But you know this, because you’re a mom. And you also know that you’re supposed to savor these moments when your children want you and need you, because later on, even if they do they won’t admit it. My secret fear is that my kids will grow up while my back is turned washing dishes.
So I’m telling all of us today – stop. Sit down. Sit down, Mommy. Take the time. It’s a cliché but you know what they say about clichés. LA is shallow. Men driving expensive sports cars have small penises. The more money you have, the more you need. Clichés are clichés because they are true. So here’s a cliché for you. It’s later than you think, and the harsh truth is….the laundry police won’t confiscate your hamper if you wait one more day.
Sit down, Mommy. You’ll be glad you did.
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
First, we named our muffin tops. This is what old friends who haven't seen each other in years and who find themselves in a tiny town in Mexico at a knitting retreat do. Christen the growth spurt between the belly button and the hips. You know. That general area that has become de riguer to show off with low cut jeans and clingy tops short on real estate. Mine was called Sylvia, and Valerie's was Fredo, after the ill fated, doofus brother of Michael Corleone. Christina dubbed hers Blanche, for reasons unexplained, although she is a bit of a literary snob.
We ate, we drank, we lay on our beds gossiping and roaring in hilarity about former colleagues and things that were not so funny when they happened years ago (like when I delivered a swift uppercut to the gut of my rental horse when he refused to cross Amsterdam Avenue en route to Central Park for a "relaxing trail ride." But that's another story).
My friends don't have kids, and they marveled that I went days without checking in at home. That was a conscious decision on my part (like not calling Daycare two minutes after you've left your screaming child there) but I let them think I had everything inexplicably under control. Did I miss my kids? After a couple days, yes. But those first two days - sleeping, eating and walking on my own schedule? It was like I had never had them, I'm ashamed to say.
But rest assured, by day 5 I was feeling like a Bad Celebrity Mother, drinking magaritas and getting pedicures while my kids fell under the dubious care of someone else (their father).
And the first thing I did when I got home at midnight after twelve hours of travel was tiptoe into their rooms to hear them breathe, watch them dream, and will them, with all my heart, to stop growing so damn fast.
Posted by Tracy McArdle at 3:34 PM
Monday, March 09, 2009
I just returned from my first ever vacation without my family! No baby, no two year old and no husband. I went to Mexico with two long lost friends, and ate so much rice and beans and cheese I may explode.
So now I'm back and mainlining caffeine, because my flight got in at midnight and it's daylight savings and (hang on - I don't need excuses to mainline caffeine, cause I'm a mom. And so are you! I'd bathe in coffee if I could. Which brings me to my point. And I do have one):
Momlogic has chosen to feature me in the MLC Coffee Club. Yay!
Every day for a month, you'll have the chance to win a Keurig Single-Cup Coffee Maker, just for leaving a comment on my blog and on my profile page....so get out there and do it!
You can comment on my profile page. Or or on one of my favorite posts, Terror in the Water, which is of course, about poo.
I know, you can't wait to read it.
Thanks for reading, and for not making me feel bad about my addictions.
Posted by Tracy McArdle at 3:24 PM