When Wade comes home from work, the boys like to hide in the bathroom and jump out at him. He makes a big deal of pretending not to know where they are and of acting scared when they pop out yelling ‘BOO!’. Every. Single. Night. It’s very very cute.
Henry just said to Charlie, ‘Let’s go hide in the bathroom and wait for Daddy to come home!’
It is 2:52 pm. Wade won’t be home for another three hours.
School needs to start NOW.
I am having a hell of a time gettting dressed these days. Not so much because of the extra ass I grew this summer (although that is slowing me down some), but because I have no idea what mommies wear.
I’ve never known what to wear to this job. There is no dress code; there are no good rules beyond EVERYTHING MUST BE MACHINE WASHABLE. And even that doesn’t always apply. I wind up choosing my clothes by what the weather is like, or what park we are going to, or what is clean (and you do it, too, admit it). I want to wear grown-up clothes every once in a while! Or I would if I had any. That fit. And were practical. See the problem?
Really, what do you wear when you’re the Mommy?
I think I’m actually having an identity crisis. The other day Leslie was telling me that she and another friend had been talking about how smart I am (yes, me–just go with it) and I said, ‘Have you started drinking during your playdates?’ Because frankly, I’m not feeling all that smart these days. I’m feeling like I’m all ass and no brain. Really.
And I find myself doing crazy things like buying a pair of pants solely because a mommy I know only from the park and Starbucks but who seems very cool and fun has a pair just like them (forgetting, as I am buying them, that she is both younger and taller than I am, which probably contributes to her aura of hip and fun). Because maybe the right pair of pants will make me a cool mommy, instead of the dud mommy I feel like now.
I’m sure most of this is caused by the final slog toward the first day of school (when I will NO LONGER be outnumbered in my own home all day) and is compounded by the fact that most of my clothes don’t fit so I’m wearing the same thing over and over and over.
The other day Charlie was talking about what he wants to be when he grows up. His short list on this day included firefighter, astronaut, and knight. ‘Mommy, what do you want to be when YOU grow up?’ he asked me.
‘I am grown up,’ I told him. ‘And I’m the mommy, remember?’
‘And before that you were a teacher!’ he said happily. Then he thought for a moment and said, ‘Maybe next you could be a superhero!’
Yes, but what would I wear?
Charlie is in the bath; I am sitting on the teeny tiny step stool, supervising him.
Charlie: I won’t cry when I get out of the tub tonight.
Me: Oh, good. Do you cry sometimes when you get out of the tub?*
Charlie: Yes.
Me: Why do you cry?
Charlie: (thinking) I cry because . . . I am sad. (Laughs like the villain in a James Bond film)
Me: What makes you sad?
Charlie: (without hesitating) Pottery Barn.
Me: Really?
Charlie: Yes. Pottery Barn makes me sad.
Me: Okaaaay . . . why does Pottery Barn make you sad?
Charlie: Because they have too much STUFF.
When Wade heard this, he said, ‘Just like his mama.’
*He cries virtually every night, either because he’s mad that the bath is over or because the wrong person is drying him off or because his superhero toys are still in the tub or because George Bush is the President or because . . . well, apparently because Pottery Barn has too much stuff. Who knew?
At some point yesterday, I reached my Child Tolerance Threshold. I don’t know when it happened, precisely, but last night when I left the house to go to the orientation at Henry’s new school, I kissed my husband (with whom I was having some very witty grown-up banter about nothing), got in my car and drove away. Halfway to Leslie’s house, I realized that I had never said goodbye or goodnight to the boys. Ha ha ha! Because I’ve had it with them.
We’ve had a great summer, don’t get me wrong, and I’m not sorry that I chose to do it this way, but I’m worn out from all the talking. I’ve said it before, but my kids talk ALL THE DAMN TIME. Henry starts to talk as soon as he wakes up and he doesn’t stop until he falls asleep at night. Fortunately, most of the time he’s not actually talking to me, but the noise is there ALL DAY LONG. Charlie talks all the time, too, but he expects you–or, more specifically, ME–to listen. And respond. Appropriately. ALL THE TIME. Between the two of them, there is not a single quiet moment from the time they wake up until they go to sleep. Wade will come home and start to tell me about his day, and I am forced to say, ‘Unless you got fired, I don’t want to hear about it.’
I am also out of fun things to do. In the past ten weeks, we have been to every park in Oklahoma City. We have been to the pool and the zoo. We have played in the backyard. We have painted and drawn and colored. We have made an entire continent’s worth of animals out of PlayDoh. We have played 10,000 games of Chutes and Ladders. We have built airplanes and towers and barns out of cardboard boxes. We have read every book in our house twice. Sometimes on the same day!
All I can think of anymore is, ‘Here’s the remote! See what’s on TV! There are probably naked people using swear words on cable! Or a movie with guns and bombs! Knock yourselves out!’ But my kids are on a TV strike. Henry will say, oh so politely, ‘No thank you, I think I would like to read. I’ll get a book and you can read it! How about the pirate book? We haven’t read that since before breakfast!’ Charlie just turns the TV off and announces, ‘We are NOT watching TV!’ I can’t imagine how my head hasn’t exploded.
Henry starts school one week from today. That is not soon enough. And Charlie? His school doesn’t start until September 8. What’s with the Episcopalians and the long LONG break? Don’t they know that Jesus wants me to have some time to myself???
The other day, at the park, Henry picked up a very cute little girl named Grace and invited her to come and play Knight’s Castle. Grace was a little skeptical. ‘I can’t be a knight,’ she said, ‘I’m a girl.’
Henry didn’t miss a beat. ‘Girls can be knights. My daddy and I saw a picture of two women knights fighting a dragon, on the Internet.’*
Grace was still not sure she wanted to be a knight. I suggested that she could be a princess, which is usually what the boys insist I be when I play knights with them. ‘Okay,’ Grace said. ‘But what does the princess do?’
Henry thought. ‘Well, you need a sword,’ he said, handing her a plastic shovel. ‘You can help protect the castle. In case a dragon attacks the castle. Because you never know about dragons.’
‘Okay!’ Grace said. And that was that.
*When I told Wade about this, he said, ‘Yeah, you should have SEEN those knights.’
‘What do you mean?’ He gestures in front of his chest. ‘Big hoo-hoos on those girls?’
‘OH yeah.’
My goodness, you people are full of good suggestions! And, in the interest of fairness and full disclosure, here are my answers, too.
1. My favorite personal care product: Neutrogena Ultra Sheer Dry Touch Sunblock SPF 45(for summer) and Clinique City Block SPF 25 (for winter)–that Intuition razor is a close second, though.
2. What I am serving for dinner–tonight, tomorrow, whenever!: I was holding out for take-out, but in the end I made chicken fajitas. AND I cooked last night and it nearly did me in (grilled pork chops, oven-roasted new potatos, and a nice green salad). Tomorrow: Macaroni Grill!
3. My favorite drink recipie: I likes me a good Long Island Iced Tea, although who actually has all that booze on hand at any given time? Tonight I broke down and had a couple of glasses of white wine (I know I said no booze until I got back into The Pants, but have you met MY CHILDREN? And did you spend the DAY WITH THEM? I didn’t think so).
4. A really yummy dip mix: salsa from a jar? (See why I needed your help, Internet?)
5. How to potty train a three-year-old boy who has no interest in the potty: Aaaannnndd, I’m out. I’ve got nothin’. And frankly, I’m not all that worried–I mean, the kid won’t go to college in diapers. Or even kindergarden. I hope. Right? RIGHT???
