Real Mothers...

I was tagged for this by one of my favorite bloggers (and favorite people I've never met in real life).
The rules state that you post something that goes sort of like this:

Real Mothers blah blah blah. And then add a photo. (or maybe not).
The blah blah blah length is at your discretion.

You know, Real Mothers (ok, most mothers) do a lot of crap.

I'm going to go with this one--
Real Mothers carry on conversations as fictional characters and then analyze the lives of fairy-tale princesses, post-fairy tale. With people not old enough to have developed strong logic skills.

Exhibit A
Date: April 27
Time: Evening
All around the neighborhood on the new bike, as Wendy and Mrs. Darling, speaking in really horrible British accents.
"Motha, do you think I can fly with pixie dust on my new bike? Do you think I can fly all the way back to Neverland?"
"Of course, Wendy, dear, if you think enough happy thoughts, you can fly anywhere." (I may have gotten this flying method confused with Mary Poppins, but she bought it. Same accent, anyway.)
Etc.

Exhibit C
Date: April 24
Time: All. Flipping. Morning. In. The. Car. Driving. To. Chicago.
Ainslie was Ariel. Everything she talked about had to do with Ariel, and her worldview. I had to have some fun, so I asked her if she ever sees her father or sisters anymore. Of course she does! She meets them-- in a boat!
What about Flounder? Did she just write him off?
Of course not! He lives in the sea, right beside her castle!
Does she ever dream about being a mermaid again? Does she have recurring dreams about not being able to breathe the air above the surface.
No.
And, she told Scuttle that it's not a dinglehopper, it's a fork.

Exhibit C, D, E...Z
Date: Almost Daily
Time: Any time we are in public
"What's your name? My name is (fill in the Princess.)"

Cinderella takes the mice to live with her, Snow White occasionally visits the dwarves, and Aurora does not like being called Briar Rose, in case you were wondering.






I just have to add, as sort of an Honorable Mention list, that Real Mothers also wear small ponytail holders around their fingers, carry toddler sized underpants through airport security, sing The Potty Song in the grocery store, and fall into bed, exhausted most nights. Often, on top of some small, sharp, plastic toy.

Tag:
Holly
Suzi
Annie

Ahhhhhhhhh.

Both cars are parked in the garage! The garage door no longer plays the theme to Sanford and Son as it goes up and down! (It was so full of half put-together deck furniture and boxes that it was embarassing to open it during daylight.) The weather is back to Spring, the deck furniture is on the deck, the grill has been fired up and, ahhhhhhh.

Last night we had Craig's family over to grill and ahhhhhh. I always like having people over, but really, after *that* 9 months, I relish having people over in (or outside of) our Own Home.

Seemed like a perfect opportunity to open that bottle of $$$$ wine we've been saving for a special occasion. Wine. Steak. Ainslie and Ben running around. Warm Weather. Cheesecake. Ahhhhhhhh.

Right Place, Right Time

So, this past week I was in Northern Virginia piloting a class we are developing. It was designed for a group of trainers and instructional designers, so we were preaching to the choir, and it was wonderful. Although I missed my little family, of course, it was a somewhat nice change to do what I do and be with adults...

So, twice over the four days I was there I heard people vehemently complain about thir jobs and professions (nobody at our class though, hmmm) and I was struck by how blessed and lucky I am right now. I love my jobs. Being Ainslie's mommy is the best job I could hope for, and yet, I have this other great job where I get to keep my resume up-to-date, travel a bit (and see best friends for free!) and make some pretty great money.

I was there to "mirror" our project manager and take notes on the feedback we were getting from the pilot, and then I will be certified to facilitate it on my own in the future, but for all practical purposes, I was there as Second Banana. I had twinges of Competitiveness, because I think that is just how I am--I want the responsibility, the work, and yes, ultimately, the recognition. Or do I? Right now?

It hit me again--how lucky I am. I have this great part-time job where I don't have to be in charge, 'handle' touchy clients, or stay up all night working (too often.) I have the freedom to say that I can only handle working 20 hours a week (and that stretches my emotional resources) right now. AND, I know there is more work available if and when I am ready to tackle a larger role.

How wonderful is that? Kids are only little once. For Right Now, this is the Right amount of responsibility for me.

French Minor at Work

As hard as it may be to believe, I seldom get to use all the French I acquired once upon a time in undergrad here on the Prairie--other than being able to read wine bottles.

Well, today I am glad to be somewhat francophonic. I saved one of Ainslie's little boutiquey dresses from the dryer, thanks to my deft international reading skills.

Six Years

As of today, April 12, I have been a member of an exclusive club (that I wouldn't wish on anyone) of mothers who have lost babies. April 12, 2001, I had my first miscarriage.
Now, after six years, Of course I remember how heartbroken I was and I will never, ever forget the horror of the next 2.5 years, trying so desperately to get pregnant again...but this post isn't a pity party. Really.

What I was wondering this morning is this: Am I really a different kind of mother because of what we went through to have Ainslie?

I've definitely been impacted forever by those years, but really, do I parent differently?

Yes and No.

I think I am more paranoid about safety. I think I tear up more easily when she says and does certain things. I think I see everyday miracles shining through her on a more frequent basis.

On the other hand...
I think I would still have her in all kinds of activities--that is just the way I am. I think I would still be a fiend about early reading skills. I think I would still hold the same basic philosophies about potty training, spanking, foods, etc.

But.
There is that certain, thing, that je ne sais quoi, that PAL sistas know. It's a fierceness with which I love her that is different. I believe that most mothers love their children more fiercely than anyone else ever will, but this is different. In a way, she is my prize, my wonder, my hard-won little bundle of stars that I had to fight tooth and nail for, and that creates its own category of motherly love.

I still think about the what-if. What if I had a five-year old now? Would I still have my monkey? There is no answer to that question, of course. I do know this--if I didn't have this young person in my life; this thinking, reasoning, climbing, jumping person who comes up with things that astound me, frustrate me, crack me up and make me cry with joy, I would not be who I am--not even close.

Then, of course, there are the wonderful friends I have made through the journey of grief, hope, frustration and joy who again, have helped mold me in so many facets of my life. Thank you, ladies.

So, six years later, I miss that first child, but I am profoundly grateful.

Riding home from Peoria

You know what's funny? An almost-3-yr-old's rendition of "Poor Unfortunate Souls" from The Little Mermaid.
"No, mommy, don't sing this part. I'm Ursula. You can be Ariel... Do I help them? yes INDEED!"