Lies and the Library
So there is this really fun thing to do. It is called going "out" with my baby. I feel that I am on vacation when I am out with my baby. I also feel like a liar.
I've mentioned my beautiful two year old before. She is really lovely. Eyelashes 2 inches long. Beautiful round cheeks, with cute little pink lips that say cute words. This walk she has is a strut, swinging her arms, tossing her hips. Very adorable. She also screams at me a lot, with that lovely little mouth. Her beautiful self-curled hair framing her perfect little features, and that face produces a sound. Like a cricket, but 1,000 times louder. Sort of shocking like a car horn, but I can't get away from it. I walk away and it follows me from room to room. Like a police siren. It is as if she is the police officer and I am getting pulled over, and I never even voted her the police officer of my house. She is a usurping dictator with an obnoxious police siren stuck in her esophagus, relentless in her requests for juice.
So sometimes I want to escape her powers and go out. Today I took her to her friend LeRoy's house and I took the baby to the library. It was story time. I was there with the baby and it was glorious.
There is a funny thing that moms do when we are all out with out kids. We find the person with a child younger than us and we give them lots of advice. I do it, too. "Oh, yes. Three year olds are picky eaters aren't they. My three year olds have loved smoothies." This advice may be offered to someone who's child has thrown their celery on the ground. Someone who doesn't know me, or care about my amazing insight. Advice is offered less often when I am prancing around with my four children in tow, but it does still happen. Moms of teenagers usually.
Well, today I only had the baby, so pretty much everyone had a child older than mine. They all assumed I was a first time mom out to story time with my baby boy. "Oh, it goes so fast." "Just wait until he is walking." Then they all judged me a little bit because I let him crawl around on the floor and try to steal their little kids sippy cups. What kind of mom doesn't bring her baby boy his own sippy cup to the library? Well, I didn't even think about it. I was thinking about taking my two year old to play with a friend.
I felt guilty that I didn't bring my two year old to story time. I took both of my older children religiously. We rarely missed a story time. And I felt like a liar.
The whole thing felt like a lie.What kind of mother am I? Parading around town like I only have one little baby when I actually have four. Acting like I don't know how fast they grow up, and how soon he won't be crawling around anymore. I acted like I'd never had a two year old, or a three year old, or a girl at all. I felt like I should have brought both babies. I was a slightly guilt ridden mother, participating in singing kiddie songs without my little beautiful screamer. She would have loved those five monkey getting eaten by that gluttonous alligator. She would have quacked those baby ducks up and down the hills with the best of them. So there I was, a big liar there with my little baby. I was charading about as a first time mom. I pushed my babies hands together and made them clap so he could be happy and he knows it. I had him jump and count along with the stories.
"One apple," "Two apples."
He didn't care at all that I felt like an impostor. To my baby, I was his mom, and this was his first experience with story time. And he thought it was awesome. He smiled at me, and socialized with all the kids older than him. He watched the curly haired story teller sing wheels on the bus, and he raised his arms in the air, trying to wipe the bus windshield madly.
Even though I felt like a guilty liar, I thought it was awesome, too. My baby is so cute. And it goes so fast. And he might become another dictator when he is two, and who knows what kind of alarm he will have stuck in his adorable throat.
After story time, I picked my darling two year old up from her friend's house. She had a great time, and she was ready to be friends with me. We went home and all three of us ate macaroni and cheese, and sweet potato mash for lunch. Then we read books. The library books.
I've mentioned my beautiful two year old before. She is really lovely. Eyelashes 2 inches long. Beautiful round cheeks, with cute little pink lips that say cute words. This walk she has is a strut, swinging her arms, tossing her hips. Very adorable. She also screams at me a lot, with that lovely little mouth. Her beautiful self-curled hair framing her perfect little features, and that face produces a sound. Like a cricket, but 1,000 times louder. Sort of shocking like a car horn, but I can't get away from it. I walk away and it follows me from room to room. Like a police siren. It is as if she is the police officer and I am getting pulled over, and I never even voted her the police officer of my house. She is a usurping dictator with an obnoxious police siren stuck in her esophagus, relentless in her requests for juice.
So sometimes I want to escape her powers and go out. Today I took her to her friend LeRoy's house and I took the baby to the library. It was story time. I was there with the baby and it was glorious.
There is a funny thing that moms do when we are all out with out kids. We find the person with a child younger than us and we give them lots of advice. I do it, too. "Oh, yes. Three year olds are picky eaters aren't they. My three year olds have loved smoothies." This advice may be offered to someone who's child has thrown their celery on the ground. Someone who doesn't know me, or care about my amazing insight. Advice is offered less often when I am prancing around with my four children in tow, but it does still happen. Moms of teenagers usually.
Well, today I only had the baby, so pretty much everyone had a child older than mine. They all assumed I was a first time mom out to story time with my baby boy. "Oh, it goes so fast." "Just wait until he is walking." Then they all judged me a little bit because I let him crawl around on the floor and try to steal their little kids sippy cups. What kind of mom doesn't bring her baby boy his own sippy cup to the library? Well, I didn't even think about it. I was thinking about taking my two year old to play with a friend.
I felt guilty that I didn't bring my two year old to story time. I took both of my older children religiously. We rarely missed a story time. And I felt like a liar.
The whole thing felt like a lie.What kind of mother am I? Parading around town like I only have one little baby when I actually have four. Acting like I don't know how fast they grow up, and how soon he won't be crawling around anymore. I acted like I'd never had a two year old, or a three year old, or a girl at all. I felt like I should have brought both babies. I was a slightly guilt ridden mother, participating in singing kiddie songs without my little beautiful screamer. She would have loved those five monkey getting eaten by that gluttonous alligator. She would have quacked those baby ducks up and down the hills with the best of them. So there I was, a big liar there with my little baby. I was charading about as a first time mom. I pushed my babies hands together and made them clap so he could be happy and he knows it. I had him jump and count along with the stories.
"One apple," "Two apples."
He didn't care at all that I felt like an impostor. To my baby, I was his mom, and this was his first experience with story time. And he thought it was awesome. He smiled at me, and socialized with all the kids older than him. He watched the curly haired story teller sing wheels on the bus, and he raised his arms in the air, trying to wipe the bus windshield madly.
Even though I felt like a guilty liar, I thought it was awesome, too. My baby is so cute. And it goes so fast. And he might become another dictator when he is two, and who knows what kind of alarm he will have stuck in his adorable throat.
After story time, I picked my darling two year old up from her friend's house. She had a great time, and she was ready to be friends with me. We went home and all three of us ate macaroni and cheese, and sweet potato mash for lunch. Then we read books. The library books.
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Ha! You describe everything so I can see it! And Nora is already our tiny dictator- she yells like a two year old and it terrifies me.
ReplyDeleteI've felt the same way, too! When I have my mother's helper watch three of the kids and I take only one to the grocery store, it's like a whole different experience (besides the obvious of not having all four kids with me), but with how people react to me and how I react to people. Sometimes I feel compelled to shout out randomly, I have three more at home! My life isn't this easy! Strange, right?
ReplyDeleteI laughed out loud at the police siren stuck in her throat. My three year olds have little dog whines stuck in theirs. But I'm thinking that the solution to my problem might be taking just one with me more often - I think they need the one on one time. You and Emily have inspired me. Maybe I need a mother's helper. Or more friends. Anyway, gotta go - library story time calls!
ReplyDelete