Mother of the Month

I haven’t always been an “eat dessert first” kind of person. It’s just not the way I was brought up. Coming from a Southern farm-raised background, I was always taught that you work first, enjoy the rewards later. 

However, in recent years, I have decided this is simply not always right. 

Case in point: school. The only acceptable reason for missing a day of classes (or, hell, even ONE class) was because you were knocking on death’s door. And usually that brought about a trip to the hospital to see Dr. Elliott. And, because my mother worked at the hospital, you’d better REALLY have something wrong with you. It wouldn’t do to be faking and found out with mom’s co-workers around. 

Yet recently, I not only checked my daughters out of school early (no doctor’s appointment in sight!), I drove them three hours away to attend a Jonas Brothers concert with thousands of other screaming girls. My mother certainly did not approve, but to her credit, she managed to get a handle on most of her disappointment with the rebel she had raised, and merely come off sounding concerned for our safety on the drive. 

I didn’t tell the girls about the trip until I checked them out of school....even though I had bought the tickets and booked the hotel weeks before. I just knew the tops of their little heads would come off if they knew where they were going. I also knew that they would lord the trip over their friends who weren’t lucky enough to have the Greatest Mother on the face of the planet. (Sorry, kids, there’s only one of me.) 

Actually, it’s because I’m anything BUT the greatest mom that led me to do such an impulsive thing. I like to think of myself as a cool mom who does neat stuff with her kids like making our own paper and knowing the names and shows of all the current “Disney channel” stars, but that isn’t always the case. For the last few years, I have had the sleep schedule from Hell: waking up at 3:30 a.m. to go to work, getting off around 1:00 p.m., and only getting about 4-5 hours of sleep per night. After a while, this will drag you down. (Think having a newborn for years on end.) It tends to make one grumpy and quick-tempered. And, unfortunately, my children have been on the receiving end of this more than once. So, to make up for it, from time to time, I will do things that are really out of character. (Hence, the Jonas Road Trip 2009. Damn, I should have had shirts made up. That would have been REALLY cool...)

And truth be told, to them it was a great time. To me, it highlighted all the things I’ve done wrong over the years that I feel I must now make up for. Not to channel my inner Carrie Bradshaw, but I wonder: Do we parents ever get to live guilt-free about the choices we’ve made for our kids? I’m thinking no. Whether it’s the parent that lives without their kids because they’re in some other state with the other parent, or the one who has them and craves a trip to the bathroom without company, I think we all have our moments. Because my children visit their dad every other weekend, I know what it’s like to have the “grass is greener” thoughts. On weekends when they’re with me, we run to soccer games, grocery trips, Chuck E Cheese excursions (or as I like to call it, “The Beloved Shrine of the Rat”). When they’re with their dad, I oscillate back and forth between “Ah, listen...silence” and “I want my babies home now!”. 

Maybe it’s just part of being a parent: the constant wondering if you’re doing it right. I’d like to think that one day, we’ll get to know the answer, but I wonder about that, too.

Meanwhile, I’m enjoying each day I have until they cross over to the dark side of teenagerdom and decide I’m the dumbest thing God ever put on the planet. And at that point, I’ll sit back, hold the car keys, and encourage them to go visit their dad. :-)

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