And the award for Mother of the Year goes to....
I'm a firm believer of the "Do one thing and do it well" philosophy. Usually when I clean I do it a room at a time, top to bottom. Sure, the rest of the house looks like a test site for the atomic bomb, but look at how clean the office is! Just look at it being all shiny and what have you! I never said I was practical, did I?
I raise children. It's what I do full-time. Sure, I do the breastfeeding support thing and I do the writing thing, but they never take priority. I make the gremlins' meals and wash their clothes and take them for bike rides where I'm so sweaty I might as well be in a sauna (less strenuous and far more relaxing), and I watch the same movie over and over and over again (if I hear any rodent sing anything ever again it will be too soon). I attend their functions and their appointments and force feed them stinky medications and discipline them (far too often).
Yes, I am the expert when it comes to my three horned wonders. The chief. The top dog. I've been doing this eleven years, you know. This is where experience helps me rise above the newbie parents. Patience, kindness and organization. Staying on top of the ball. That's what makes me great.
Sunday night I carefully packed a healthy lunch for Intrepid and put it in the fridge. In the morning I made him wear a hat, told him to change his dirty pants (three days in a row?! Nuh-uh!) and sent him out to wait for the bus.
Fifteen minutes later he came back in. No bus. Did he miss it because it was too early? Was he going to miss it coming inside because it was too late? I figured I should be the good mom I am and advocate for my son. I called the school to complain about the bus and let them know that he would be biking to school.
When the secretary answered the phone I gave her all the information. The bus was either too early or too late and now Intrepid would be late for school. Could she let his teacher know? Did I have to go and fill out a late slip? I could hear the secretary trying to say something, so once I told her what was happening I let her speak.
"Uh, Maven? This is the principal. It's a PD day. There's no school today. That would be why the bus didn't come."
Oh.
Maybe Miss Organized Maven might want to check the boy's school calendar next time?
Do one thing and do it with mediocrity. That's how I roll.
I raise children. It's what I do full-time. Sure, I do the breastfeeding support thing and I do the writing thing, but they never take priority. I make the gremlins' meals and wash their clothes and take them for bike rides where I'm so sweaty I might as well be in a sauna (less strenuous and far more relaxing), and I watch the same movie over and over and over again (if I hear any rodent sing anything ever again it will be too soon). I attend their functions and their appointments and force feed them stinky medications and discipline them (far too often).
Yes, I am the expert when it comes to my three horned wonders. The chief. The top dog. I've been doing this eleven years, you know. This is where experience helps me rise above the newbie parents. Patience, kindness and organization. Staying on top of the ball. That's what makes me great.
Sunday night I carefully packed a healthy lunch for Intrepid and put it in the fridge. In the morning I made him wear a hat, told him to change his dirty pants (three days in a row?! Nuh-uh!) and sent him out to wait for the bus.
Fifteen minutes later he came back in. No bus. Did he miss it because it was too early? Was he going to miss it coming inside because it was too late? I figured I should be the good mom I am and advocate for my son. I called the school to complain about the bus and let them know that he would be biking to school.
When the secretary answered the phone I gave her all the information. The bus was either too early or too late and now Intrepid would be late for school. Could she let his teacher know? Did I have to go and fill out a late slip? I could hear the secretary trying to say something, so once I told her what was happening I let her speak.
"Uh, Maven? This is the principal. It's a PD day. There's no school today. That would be why the bus didn't come."
Oh.
Maybe Miss Organized Maven might want to check the boy's school calendar next time?
Do one thing and do it with mediocrity. That's how I roll.