Trick-or-Treat

Tonight, after the sugar rush (the pavement pounding one....not the one that was percolating in my little kids' bodies), my kids sat at the table eating dinner while watching the trick-or-treaters come to our door.

As I handed out candy to a group of princesses and ninjas, one of the older princesses (maybe 10?) looked past me to my frantically waving and seriously adorable sons. In a very conversational tone she asked me "Are you babysitting tonight?"

Seriously, well-meaning 10-year-old girl?  Are you freaking kidding me?  In our own home?

I get mistaken for the nanny about once a month, but usually it is an understandable mistake.  I live in an area with a lot of nannies and a lot of Korean families.  I have learned to be quick and cheerful and totally non-awkward when it happens because I get it.

But in my own home?  Our safe place?

My response was my trusty "Nope, they're my babies" served up with a smile and mirthful eyes.

"They don't look like you."
"Nope, I don't look like them."

Then the moment was over as the princesses and their ninjas had other homes to conquer, but it left me feeling a bit out-of-sorts.  Because it reminded me that no matter where we are, how we see ourselves is not how others see us.  Even in our own home, the place that wraps all our family magic up and keeps us safe from the world.

And I can accept that.  It's part of being special...standing out.  I just need to make sure I never lose sight of my responsibility to teach my kids that no matter where we (or more importantly, they) are singled out, our truths and reactions should be the same.

I did give that princess the crappy gobstoppers though...I won't lie.

A Pile of More

Once, back many years ago when Appa and I were dating, he mentioned that he thought it was a bit odd that my family literally dog piled on top of each other when watching movies or lounging around.  Although I had never stopped to see it that way, it was true that my family could be found on any Sunday evening watching a Disney movie while looking like some couch form of family Twister.  We'd just grown up cuddling each other (not in a creepy, call-the-cops sort of way, of course) and never stopped, and that extended to siblings.

Tonight, as I rested my head on Appa's lap while Little Bro cuddled into his lap and nestled his hands into my hair and Little Bug draped his whole body over mine and anchored himself by digging his feet under my legs, I thought of that comment Appa made so many years ago and it made me smile to see a bit of a circle start to form.

There are many things I wish for my family to be 10 years from now, but one of them is a family who will still pile on the couch to enjoy the Lion King and the comfort and love we give to each other without reservation.

Just One More

I'm not sure whether to be heartbroken at having to shut them down or proud that my boys are clever enough to know that the surest way to prolong bedtime is ask Mommy for one more bear hug.

And one more bear hug.
And one more bear hug.
And one more bear hug.
And one more bear hug.
And one more bear hug.
And one more bear hug.
And one more bear hug.
And one more bear hug.

And just one more bear hug.

THAT Mom

I'm THAT Mom.

I'm the one who passive aggressively makes comments and suggestions for months before breaking down and triple slamming you to the floor with a 180, complete with my own private therpist reports, research, and demands.

I'm THAT Mom.

I'm the one who puts on the cheery face and signs messages with "Have a great day!" when we both know my actual thoughts go more along the line of "I wouldn't be sad if you quit and someone else worked with my child."

I'm THAT Mom.

I'm the one who, despite not having any formal education in your field of expertise, is writing her own IEP goals, demanding and justifying doubling my child's services.  Who listens to what you say before dismissing it as incorrect and not fully-fleshed out.  I'm the one who is saying you are wrong.

I'm THAT Mom because I am HIS Mom.

It's not your job, or anyone else's job, to move hell and high water for my son.  It's not your job to fight for more and better and even more and even better for him.  It's not your job to know everything about him, including his strengths and weaknesses. It's not your job to focus on those strengths and weaknesses and find anyway possible to enhance them. And I get that.  I respect that.  I don't actually hope you quit......

But as HIS Mom, I have to fight for him.  I have to reach outside my comfort zone and challenge you when I know we're not on the same page. And as unpleasant as that might be for you, it is just as unpleasant for me.  I don't like conflict, I don't like looking an educated, respected woman in the eye and saying "You are not doing the right thing and I know better than you."  I don't relish calling you out, forcing you to justify yourself and your knowledge.

You see THAT Mom, but really, I am the Mom who spends hours agonizing over every word in those e-mails.  I am the Mom who lays in bed at night tossing and turning over whether or not to rock the boat.  I am the Mom who researches for hours just to make sure I can keep up with what I know you are already well versed in.  I am the Mom who feels totally inadequate and out of her league when it comes to therapies and goals.  I am the Mom who leaves those meetings and sits in her car and sobs....every.single.time.

I'm HIS Mom. 

I simply need the very best I can physically get to help him reach his potential.  I will spend any amount of my money and time and emotional capacity I need to in order to go to sleep at night knowing that today was a day that worked for him.  It's a lonely, isolating, slightly scary, and very uncomfortable place to be sometimes, but I will do whatever I have to for him.  That includes pushing you to give him the best and most accurate support that YOU can.

So yes, I am THAT Mom, and I won't apologize for it, but just so you know, it's harder on me than it is on you. 

It's also a million trillion times more rewarding.

Forgiveness

There is no greater lesson than the forgiveness of your children.

Today was not a great mommy day for me.  All three of us woke up in bad moods, but I didn't do my duty to rise above the occasion and was short, distant, and even a bit loud.  Of course, I tried to salvage the day by spending almost all of it outside, taking a long bike ride to reduce stress, and even napping, but the evening ended with Mommy still not being her best.  As we read books in our jammies, I felt so horrible for being such a crummy mom to them today, and I imagined them both laying sadly in bed being angry with me after I turned out the lights and left their rooms.

But none of it mattered to them in the end.  They showered my scowling face with cuddles and kisses and murmurs of "i loube ooo"s.  They nestled their heads into my chest and shoulder and relaxed in my embrace.  They forgave me for today and let me still just be the mommy who loves them more than anything else, who makes them feel safe, and who is the one whose kisses are needed to fall asleep.

Surely I can find it in myself to forgive them just as quickly for things like willful disobedience and epic tantrums.  Their example of forgiveness is inspiring.

Staying Me

So you might have heard: I'm a stay at home mama, now, and have been for 6 months.  And I am finally feeling like I am growing into this slightly-more-often-clad-in-workout-pants-even-though-I-am-not-working-out skin.  My house is finally starting to trend more clean than messy, although it will always be a home that a friend once aptly described as "lived in," which I actually like.  My kids are healthy and happy and transitioning super duper well into our new family dynamic.  I'm even cooking more, including pureeing veggies to slip into dishes. My house is starting to declutter and become more organized.  Sheets are getting washed more often, and not just for bodily fluids. I'm working on breaking up with my not-so-secret lover, T@rget and our almost every other day dalliances.

But most surprisingly, I am happy.

I never thought I would be good at being a SAHM.  The two times I was unemployed as an adult were horrible, depressing, slothful periods of my life, and I was terrified that would happen again, only with two little lives getting sucked into my "The OC" marathon sessions. 

But none of that happened this time.  It could be because this time I went into it knowing the stakes, planning the future out ahead of me, and surrounding myself with support.  Or it could just be that I've changed.  All I know is that I can't think of a single day (excepting the grieving days and the potty training days) where I woke up thinking "I wish I didn't have to be on duty today."  I don't regret leaving my job, which I loved.  I don't regret pairing down Little Bug's school schedule slightly so that I could have him home with me for part of the week.

I might not like doing dishes, laundry, cleaning, or cooking, but I am starting to take pride in having them done by my own hand (not that they were being done by anyone else's hands before). 

I love putting Little Bug on the bus each morning and standing in the driveway to wave to him until the bus drives off and his head can't crane around to see me anymore.

I love cheerfully but quietly greeting my sleepy and confused Little Bro after he stumbles out from his nap.  And I love how he want to lay on me for another 10 minutes after that while we sit quietly and listen to each other breath.

I love the sound of my dishwasher and laundry machine going at the same time while sun streams through my windows.

Granted, I'm not going to win any awards.  My tub hasn't been scrubbed in awhile; my bedroom is a mess; and my attempts to make spaghetti pie with carrot puree and spinach meatballs turned was one heck of a fail.  And I am blogging right now while a pile of dishes sits in my sink. But I wouldn't be me without some disastrous cooking attempts, dust bunnies, and a skewed perceptive on blogging.

And I am still me, just a me who is there more for them.