Mom in the Mirror

I guess I deserved that

Yesterday, I took Colter and two of his friends to a county fair. They each won three prizes (stuffed lizard, snake, pit bull, bear, dragon, inflatable hammers, etc.) and went down a big slide. Then, we all ate lunch at a Mexican restaurant and saw a matinee of "Christmas with the Kranks" (they liked it, I didn't). After we got home, they played outside for a few hours. Colter came in briefly to get some orange juice, and later, I discovered this note he wrote me while he was drinking:

Hi Mommy. I love you. You are the best mom in the world.

I'm framing it.

That belly button

Every time I see Colter's little innie, I remember that he was tethered to me, that my meals were his meals. My body contained his body. My life gave him life.

It's no wonder that every time he shows me his belly button I kiss it madly.

Is your child an innie or an outie?

You're not wearing that, are you?

Before the first Thanksgiving dinner, I'm pretty sure a pilgrim parent looked at his pilgrim progeny and said, "You're not wearing that, are you?"

And so it began.

When I was a teenager, the argument in my house was about whether I would wear a bra. I honestly can't remember whether or not my father won (he was in favor) or I did (I was opposed), but I can remember long silences when we were engaged in the standoff.

I was telling Colter about those arguments yesterday because I spent a good hour explaining to him why he couldn't wear shorts and a T-shirt to our friends' house for Thanksgiving dinner.

After he finally compromised (a polo shirt and long pants), I told him that all across the country parents and kids were having the same conversation and that when he was a dad, he'd have the same talk with his children.

Someday, I want to host a formal holiday dinner and invite people to wear their pajamas.

I'm dreaming of a white Thanksgiving

It was snowing in Chicago when I spoke with my stepmother yesterday and it made me miss the powdery white stuff. I love the way it swirls, the way it sticks, the way it turns into towers.

So, last night, we went to the mall, where it snows every night at 7 p.m.

Just after we arrived, around 6:30 p.m., it started to rain, so when the fake flakes started to fall, it was almost like being home. It was wet, a little windy and entirely wonderful.

What are you dreaming of this holiday season?

Sleeping late

I woke up at 10:45 this morning. 10:45!!!

I can't remember the last time I slept that late, especially because I'm generally a morning person. But, wow, did it feel good.

It helps that it's the beginning of a mini-holiday vacation from work so when I did finally wake up there was NOTHING I had to do (I should clean up Colter's toys and my piles of mail and whatever's living on our coffeetable, but I have DAYS ahead of me during which to do that).

I feel so well-rested and ... relaxed?

When was the last time you slept really, really late?

Colter's first cigarette

Last night, Colter told me he'd had his first cigarette. After he saw the desired shock on my face, he told me it was candy. I told him even candy cigarettes were not OK for him (his father has a pack-a-day nicotine habit and I don't want Colter to even play with the idea).

His joke reminded me of those chewing gum cigarettes I used to suck on as a kid. Which reminded me of candy necklaces. And jaw breakers. And Pixy Stix. And Teaberry Gum. And the stale sticks of gum in Wacky Packages.

Nostalgia, anyone?

What was your favorite candy as a kid?

Welcome Tampa Bay DotMoms

Today, a project I've been working on for the St. Petersburg Times goes live. It's called Tampa Bay DotMoms and it's a local version of the DotMoms you already know and love (I created the group weblog for mothers around the world about a year ago, and I just gave its design a tweak to coordinate better with the new version). If you know any writing moms who live in this part of Florida, let me know.

The four saddest words

They are: I don't have time.

When I hear myself say that to Colter or Gary or anyone, really, it upsets me.

I prefer the double-speak -- "I can't do that right now, can you wait a few minutes?" (most often to Colter) or "I can't do it right now, how about (this afternoon, tomorrow, next week)?"

The problem is, "a few minutes" turns into an hour or more and if Colter has forgotten (or is he just storing the memory in his "resentment files" for years of therapy later?), then I often let it go and keep doing what I was doing.

Sometimes, I remind him, "Hey, we were going to play cards now." When the response is, "I don't want to anymore," I sometimes think those are the five saddest words I've ever heard. I feel like I've stripped my son of his desire.

But there's this: needs are infinite and time is finite. Measured in minutes, we get 1,440 per day.

Right this minute, what would you rather be doing?

From the best of enemies to the best of friends

Colter's best friend these days is a boy he once hated. When this boy first moved into our apartment complex, Colter immediately wanted him to move out, far away, to disappear. Why? Because of a girl.

The little girl Colter liked at the time took a sudden interest in this other boy, and Colter blamed the boy.

Months later, neither of the boys plays with the girl; instead, they play with each other. Every day they're outside playing ball or inside playing GameCube.

As a mom, is there a lesson in this I need to learn about male friendship?

It's the napkins, stupid

This is how it happened: I arrived home an hour before Gary and Colter last night, then called Gary on his cell phone and asked if I could take care of dinner. They wanted McDonald's, so I went there to get take-out.

The cash machine was broken/being fixed, so I spent the small amount of cash I had ($6) on a Happy Meal for Colter and cheeseburgers and fries for Gary.

I arrived home, gave them their food, and made myself a sandwich. Just as I was finishing up with the mayonnaise, a bug crawled on my plate. A small ant, I think, but I hate bugs.

Do you feel my blood pressure rising?

I killed it, made sure my food was OK, sat down at the table, took a sip of my drink, and realized there were no napkins in the napkin holder.

Why am I the only one who puts napkins in the napkin holder?

Why am I the only one who puts paper towels on the paper towel holder?

Toilet paper on the toilet paper dispenser? Soap in the soap dispenser?

What small tasks do you do in your house that others often overlook?