It isn't an air tight container

I was displaying all the classic signs. My hair had a subtle frizzy look that only an electric shock or a child plowing through the terrible twos can produce. My eyes were red and puffy from a recent cry. I was pale as a ghost and not making eye contact with any of the other parents. It had obviously been an extremely rough day. But The Kraken had swim lessons, and I am a momma not a quitter. So I picked myself up from our horrible day, dusted off and didn’t even bother covering up the bags under my eyes before leaving the house.

Ladies, ladies, ladies, will we ever learn to be supportive of other mothers around us or will we always be critical meanie heads? Can you cut a mom a break now and then, especially one in the fragile state I was in? Can you just take a step back and realize that just because you aren’t excited about certain activities (like jumping on the bed or eating fair food or smiling) doesn’t mean I am a bad parent for disagreeing. Now if you see me allowing my children to wrap plastic bags around their heads by all means, step in. If there is an empty refrigerator that I feel my children are safe to play in, please kindly remind me the oxygen is limited and the door difficult to open from within. If however you witness our weekly rec center ritual, just back off.

After swim lessons were over, I took my son to the locker room to change where he promptly clambered into a locker and asked me to shut the door. And I did. I let the kids hang out in the lockers while they dry off and I get their clothing out of the bag. I’ve never really thought much about it. They enjoy being in their “caves”, and I enjoy thirty seconds of peace to get organized. No sooner had I closed the door than a mother behind me turned to her daughter and shouted, “Don’t even ask me to do that. So dangerous. You will run out of air and you will die. So dangerous.” I did what I do best and avoided a confrontation by pretending not to hear her. I told The Kraken to come out so I could dress him. He popped out, clearly oxygen deprived and asked, “May I go in locker again after I dressed?”

To which I replied, with perhaps a tad too much gusto, “Absolutely!”

In Need of a Hobby

During a recent car ride The Kraken began his normal barrage of questioning. As usual his curiosity focused on “fast fast” cars. My son, way too observant for his own good, wanted to know the difference between wheels and tires. That’s a tough one to explain to a three year old, and frankly it had been a very long week. Mommy was exhausted and to tell the honest truth, I just don’t give a good gosh darn about wheels or tires or race cars.

So I did what any devoted and loving mother would do, I deferred to daddy. Why does daddy know the answers and mommy does not? Well, my son, daddy loves fast cars just as much as you do. Mommy doesn’t love cars and therefore hasn’t spent any time learning about the inner workings of the automobile. The Kraken pondered for a moment in silence and then wanted to know what mommy loves if not cars.

Hmmm. I love my children . . . and . . .

(Four short years ago I would have listed a million things: playing volleyball, reading the classic novels, scrapbooking, hiking, camping, keeping up on current events, blah, blah and blah. My greatest passion these days is a nap lasting longer than 30 minutes. I think I am in need of a hobby.)

The silence must have been deafening because my son suddenly stepped in with “and ambulances and fire trucks and police cars and firemen?” Yes! Eureka, you have found it! Mommy certainly loves men in uniform!