When I was younger I always believed that I was destined to be a great mother. Not average, not even good but truly great. I envisioned myself squiring around my large (and by large I mean many many children) brood effortlessly, being the house where everyone sent their kids to play. The mom with endless snacks and the house where all the fun was. Admittedly, in this pipe dream of mine, I conveniently omitted the fact that I am the least patient person G-d ever created and so clearly, that was in no way a factor working against my future amazing parenting. Well you know how the saying goes "Man plans and G-d laughs". At me apparently, like a hyena!
Clearly, in real life I am not that Mom. For starters, there is no large brood. The word effortlessly is no longer part of the vocabulary and usually, I do not even attempt to squire all three of my children around alone anywhere. I used to always say that I would never be that mother who took her nanny places with her. I scoffed at those people! HA, look at me now, I can't go anywhere without at least one extra set of hands, and often I need two.
On the rare occasion however, when I do make the attempt to do it and it is successful, I feel amazing. Sadly, that is the exception and never the rule. This may be a major factor in why I hate holiday weekends. It is because they loom before us as a great cavern of "no help" days.
Today was one of those days of "lets just make it to bedtime". We were sailing along pretty well and at about 4:15 my oldest asked me to watch him play in front. This meant that he wanted to walk up and down the block delivering the mail. I said "sure" and with him and my youngest riding her tricycle in tow, we headed down the block. Around 10 minutes into it my middle came running down the block to check on me (per his Dads instructions) and see if I needed any help. Like I said, I rarely go anywhere with out an extra set of hands. I told my middle we were good and he said "wait for me, I am just going to get my scooter and I want to come with you". Two minutes later, he came back and we set off around the block. We were having a blast! Singing, dancing walking like old men hunched over and stooped and just simply having fun together. I was euphoric. I was patting myself on the back. See that, I told myself, you can do it. All that self congratulations over taking a walk with my own kids around the block, how pathetic. Not to mention presumptive. About half way down the block (literally almost backyard to backyard with my own house) we bumped into a woman who was playing in front of her house with her toddler. I have no idea why this so derailed my son and our great time but it did completely. He sat down on the grass and refused to go anywhere. He started trying to run into these people's home and hugging them (clearly stranger danger is still an issue for us). He began to run away from me and of course I ended up having to tackle him to the ground multiple times. I actually turned to my 6 year old, 6 YEAR OLD, and told him to ride home alone (without a helmut, which in and of itself takes me off the great mom list) and get his father. Before you call child protective services, don't worry, I canceled that request. All of this was of course happening on some strangers front lawn, until they finally asked if they could help and I borrowed their cell phone to call my husband who had to come help me get home. By that time I was sweating, my back and neck were killing, my bubble had burst and I was peeling off every layer I had on. Which may actually have been the more interesting show...
Lessons learned? Don't be young and dumb? Don't leave home with out your cell phone? Or maybe most importantly (as my cousin pointed out) don't be so stupid as to congratulate yourself until you actually make it around the damn block!
