Often, after fighting the kids to take a bath, put on their pajamas, brush their teeth, say their prayers and finally get in bed, I will come downstairs and plop onto the couch exhausted. I inevitably will declare something along the lines of, “I don’t know if I have enough patience for this motherhood stuff”.

Never mind that I’ve been at bat in the game of parenthood for over nine years. Never mind that I’ve uttered a sentence like that hundreds (if not thousands) of times. I always wake up the next day…or if I’m lucky, at 3:00 AM by a kid who needs to vomit…and do it all over again.

My son has a preschool project due tomorrow. He, along with my help, was to collect information about his favorite zoo animal. Tomorrow he will share his folder full of animal facts with his class. He chose a giraffe.

Being the good mother that I am, I first felt it necessary to teach him the art of procrastination, which would be why we didn’t start his project until tonight. Some kids may have gone to the library, but we went to Google.

First we printed a picture. Then we researched where giraffes live, what they eat, how tall they grow, even the color of their tongue. We also created a visual aid. Then we went over, and over, and over the things he was going to say to the class. (Note to self: Don’t procrastinate anything involving public speaking with your speech delayed kid.)

When we were finished, I put the folder away with a relieved sigh, and said, “There! Now you’re ready to share all those facts about your favorite animal, the giraffe.”

And after the 30 minute evening battle, as I tucked him into bed, my boy looked up at me and said, “Mom. My favorite animal is an elephant.”

Follow

Email

I just went to lunch with my son, my daughter and my Mom. We were in a crowded restaurant, directly next to a table with a woman, her son, her daughter, and her Mom. It was a mirror image of us, with one exception…the little boy at their table wouldn’t stop whining.

My Mom was facing them and told me a few times that the boy seemed really spoiled. Having known quite a few special needs kids, I told her that he might have some kind of behavioral problem we weren’t aware of. Through my own experience, I have learned not to judge.

But, my Mom held her ground and disagreed, saying that she could just tell he was spoiled. A few times, I saw her look over at the older woman and flash her a sympathetic smile, Grandma to Grandma.

It turns out, that my Mom was probably right about that boy’s attitude, because on the way out of the restaurant, the other Grandmother approached her. And, I’m doubting that a woman with a special needs grandchild, would come up to my Mom, grab her arm at 1:00 in the afternoon and say, “I think it’s time for a drink”.

Follow

Email

My son brought home a book he made at school with some pictures inside.

This is me. I am happy, but I am also wearing boxing gloves just in case I need to knock somebody out. At least he made me skinny.

This is my husband. I don’t know about you, but I think he needs a haircut. I noticed he’s missing his ears, which would explain why he never hears anything I say. Also, his lack of arms is probably why he doesn’t help much around the house.

Follow

Email