Random Thoughts for a Frosty Day
Please grow up soon
Today, as I stepped out of the shower and wrapped a towel around myself, the phone rang.
The Princess brought it to me. The display said it was the school.
“Honey! What’s wrong? Are you sick?” It was Art Girl sounding all tiny and far away. “Are you okay? What happened?”
“Ah, ah, um…” A heard a gentle voice in the background. “Just tell her you forgot your PJ’s.”
Oh, right. It was PJ day today.
“I’ll be there in 20 minutes.”
And that leads me to the first random thought of the day. Why do some parents consider young children “easier” than older kids? Why? Why? Why?
Do you know how much I wished that, as I stood there dripping, gazing through the curtains at 90km/hour wind gusts, contemplating how I now had to quickly wrestle a 7 month, 3 year and 4 year old into snow jackets and mittens, how much I wished that they were 7, 9 and 10? And I could just say “get your jacket, guys?” Or that they were 9, 10 and 12 and they could have just stayed home for the 15 minutes it would take to run to the school and back? It’s only December 2nd, and I am already so sick of monitoring who’s still wearing mittens, who’s lagging behind, of switching boots back to the right foot, calming someone down because they think that a truck 3 blocks away is going to run them down. I’ve had it with brushing other people’s teeth. Even if they are my own children.
Maybe people are reacting to the fact that their kids are growing up and away. I know that I would like them to stay young forever — if only they could be 9 while they did it.
We made it to the school, by the way. PJ’s were restored, along with order in the universe.
And, Big Boy finally figured out how to get his thumb into the right spot in his mitts. Victory! Just one more to go……
Mom’s need a new word
I was listening to Sweetie Pie tell me about her classmate.
“She doesn’t wear a winter jacket. She comes to school in a big green hoodie. Our teacher said ‘You should put a winter jacket on your Christmas List.'”
We live in Northern Alberta and in Canada, anytime the word “Northern” occurs in relation to geography, you need a winter jacket from November to April. And that’s every year, unless it’s some freak weather event, and then it ends up on the National News.
So this little tidbit gave me a weird sense of happiness followed by guilt and then satisfaction, and then guilt again. Some poor Mom was way more screwed up and behind than I was. Score! Wait — isn’t that wrong? I shouldn’t be feeling good. Still, it’s nice to know that you aren’t the only one who drops the ball. Not that it matters, because it’s not a competition or anything. But if it is a competition, it’s a good to know that when you cross the finish line, there would be someone behind you. Though, I guess you should stop just short of the finish line and cross it together. Right.
So….us Moms need a word for this. Sort of like Schadenfreude — the german word for taking joy in someone else’s misfortune (literally “damage joy.”) We need a word for being reassured at another Mom’s blunder — and then feeling guilty for it. So I came up with some suggestions:
Mutterschuldfreude (mother guilt joy)
Mutterfreudeschuld (mother joy guilt — for Moms who are naturally guilty)
Zugunglückschuld (train wreck guilt)
Zweiterverliererfreude (second loser joy)
I’m going to work on this. Maybe we need a NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month) type abbreviation. How about MoHaMoBa (Mother Happy Mother Bad)? I think I’m on to something here. Not that I should be. I really shouldn’t be competing.