I don't know why I thought this whole motherhood thing was going to get easier over time. Those of you ahead of me in the learning curve are probably shaking your head and chuckling, but I really did think that once they were all potty trained and on the school bus, life would be just one big yoga class. Followed by spa pedicures and an Asian salad at Panerra.
But somehow it just gets trickier by the day. I mean, I used to worry about people drinking Clorox or falling out of second story windows. These days I worry more about online images and fighting on the bus. Not to mention how to get Little Sister's pink glittery jewelry kit bead out of Big Brother's brand new Airsoft. (Note to self: Hot glue on a toothpick is not the way to go.)
Just today I noticed Jake subtly put his carefully-selected, brand-new birthday shirt at the bottom of the laundry pile. Isn't it cool enough? Did someone make fun of it? Why would they? What exactly makes one shirt acceptable and another nearly identical shirt destined for the back of the drawer? And, most of all, if someone really cares so much about his personal appearance then just why IS my frequent suggestion to become one with the toothbrush always so offensive?!
Em has been complaining of headaches for a while now. She rubs her eyes and whines sometimes. In my expert opinion, of course, she is just looking for attention. This is a girl who loves vitamins and medicine and Band-aids, after all. She visits the school nurse for cough drops almost daily. So, I chalk it up to middle-child-syndrome and tell her to rest on the couch.
Well, yesterday I finally took her to the eye doctor. (After much begging on her part and me saying, "Why? You just aced the school vision screening.") It turns out she is practically blind in her left eye and has astigmatism in her right. We pick up her purple sparkle specs on Wednesday.
What kind of mother lets her beautiful daughter wander through life under a veil of blurry darkness?! Me, that's who. (I confess to shedding a few tears over the whole thing until I remembered the time I broke my arm in fifth grade and NOBODY believed me for days. Thanks, Mom. I feel better now.)
When does it get easier, people? Exactly when will I go from novice-mom to expert status? And don't tell me to hang on and wait for grandkids. I don't know if I can last that long...