Transitions

For the last 3 years,  I have carried my oldest child (who now weight nearly 50 pounds) up the stairs, changed her clothes, helped her brush her teeth, and fed her cereal by hand while we watch WordGirl before I pack her up in the car and drive her to school.

Why do I feed a 6 year old who is perfectly capable of feeding herself, you ask?  Well, I asked her the same question as to why I should still be feeding her when I KNOW she can feed herself.

“Because it brings me comfort, Mommy,” was her answer.  Who can argue with that?  And, so I feed her.

Except on Wednesdays, which is Daddy’s day to do that.  Wednesdays I stay home and our youngest calls it “Mommy and Baby Bird Day”.  She gets so excited when it is Mommy and BBD.   We sleep in and cuddle, followed by some light housework, and a breakfast of pancakes and a LOT of bacon.  Then I take her to her ballet class.

Ballet class has become such a special time for her.  All of the other friends she has ever are somehow linked to her sister.  They were Z’s friend’s first, and then Baby Bird’s, but not her dance friends.   Her dance friends belong completely to her.

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When we leave dance, we go to Chick Fil-a and play date with dolls and friends.   The moms have become a special support to me as well.  It is nice to have people who understand where you are in life.

Sadly, both of the bucolic scenes above are coming to an end.  My special time with my oldest will soon be replaced by hectic mornings involving both children.  My wonderful times with the dance moms (a phrase I never thought I would utter) is about to come to a close with recital looming over us.

I know that both transitions are good.  I know that both transitions are necessary.  It didn’t stop me from weeping on the bathroom floor after I put them to bed tonight.   No one tells you how hard it is when you are in the middle of the best days of your life and you know it.

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Confusion

person laying in front of silver sedan

Photo by Lukas Žvikas on Pexels.com

I was walking out of work yesterday with a new coworker.  She has no idea what my sweet ride looks like.  I had that horrified moment in a parking lot where I couldn’t figure out where I parked.  Except, It was a very small parking lot, and one I park in almost every day.   I was standing their stunned, unable to figure out where my car was.  Then, it came to me,  the car directly in front of me was mine.   I know you are thinking, “How could she not recognize her own car?”  My coworker gave me the same skeptical look.

Well……. there was a cloud burst at work, a brief but strong rain storm.  And….. the rain must have cleaned all the dirt off my car, and I had difficulty recognizing it without the usual dust and grime.  It looked almost like new.  Maybe I should wash that sucker more often.

 

What I Do Best

I do lots of things well.  I am a doctor, and a mother and a friend.  I enjoy cooking, crafting, sewing and gardening.  I play with my children nearly continuously.  There are many things that I do well, however;  my daughter has pinpointed one on my Mother’s day card that I did not expect:20180514_211950.jpg

I really am surprised to find out how great I am at doing dishes, especially since I NEVER do them.  In fact,  I hate doing dishes so much that I had two dishwashers installed so I can just eat on clean plates from the clean one and put dirty ones in the dirty one.  This is how much I hate doing dishes.

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At least I am as pretty as a rainbow and know how to subtract, so you know, I have stuff to fall back on.

 

Fermentation

I am driving Z to school this morning when I hear a wail of disgust emanating from the back seat, and then the odor hit me.

It seems that Baby Bird had left a sippy cup filled with juice to ferment in the hot sun for several days, and Z, ever curious picked it up and it basically exploded fermented orange juice all over her.

She handed it to me, giving me careful instructions on how to dispose of the foul substance, she was voting for complete elimination of the offending sippy cup.  I, however; have to pay for said sippy cups and elected for a salvage mission.

At a stop light, I carefully uncapped the monstrosity and poured it out, managing only to spill a little on myself and inside the car.   Z was crying from the back seat, “What about the road mommy?” as if it would erode the very asphalt it was poured on.

We pulled up to the drop off lane where I struggled with whether I should explain why my child smelled like a sorority girl drunk on so much hooch, or should I hope that it just goes unnoticed?   I elected for the latter.  Now how to get the odor out of the car?

You Had One Job

Once every ten years, I have to recertify for my Family Medicine boards. They do not offer this testing where I live, so I had to travel to the nearest testing center. I decided to stay overnight to ensure that I would not miss my testing slot. I left my husband home alone with both girls for the first time.

I didn’t just leave him alone with the girls. I left the girls at gymnastics, and food was prepared at home and all items were laid out for the next day. Literally, all he had to do was ferry them from gymnastics to home, feed them, and put them to bed.

Did he complete these tasks? Well…. technically yes.

I should preface the next statement for those of you who don’t live in the south, it has been four months and it has rained almost every day at this point. So, he completed all his given tasks, after he decided that it would be fun to do donuts in our yard with the mini-van, getting my swagger waggon stuck in the yard.

So, while he should have been feeding babies and putting them to bed, they stomped through the house covered in mud while he had a friend help him use the tractor to pull the van out of the yard.

Dude, you had one job, and your like 40 years old. I am still shaking my head.

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