The woo'ing days of big bouquets bursting with long stemmed red roses have traded themselves for dryer doors spitting out lone socks and lint upon my arrival. Of course I enjoy flowers or extravagant dinners, but as a mommy, the small stuff in life has proven more precious than gold.Case in Point #1: I'm smart to think ahead, but not smart enough to remember I thought ahead.
The result: I surprise myself now and then by remembering something I typically expect myself to forget.
For instance, I schlepped Pumpkin to her annual physical with a quart of caffeine in my gut and suddenly I could think only of my 5th grade teacher, Mrs. Lewellyn. Her terrible coffee breath caused any unruly wisps of hair to recoil into Shirley Temple curls when she leaned over to help me multiply fractions.
I realized how close the doctor had to get in order to give Pumpkin a good look and listen as she sat in my lap, and a hint of embarrassment overcame me. I put the car in park and tossed my keys in the side pocket of my purse -right next to a spankin' new pack of Orbit Peppermint Blitz gum, Messiah incarnate!
I only masquerade as an exceptionally prepared mother, as clever and quick-witted as the single gal of days gone by because I regularly have bouts of the flipside:
"Hey, have you seen the thing I set next to the thing?" I beg, conveying desperation during my real-life charades. I can no longer say what I want to say exactly when I want to say it. And sadly, I'll often leave an interaction and think of a smart quip about 10 minutes too late.
My forgetfulness also causes sporadic flare-ups of anger only to discover it was I, not anyone else, who left the toilet paper roll empty first thing in the bleary-eyed morning.
Case in point #2: Physical Balance Improvement.
Having the title, "Mother," allows for a few adjustments to life with baby weight that will eternally reside smack in the middle of my tummy, south of the belt. Despite my weight gain remaining significantly disproportionate since pregnancy, not all is lost. As a mom, I have achieved probably the best balance I've ever had in my life. How do I know this?
Ever stepped on a Cheerio at 5am?
Those suckers, which could save any dying fruit fly for the majority of the morning while floating in sour milk, will inevitably crunch into a thousand little crumbs if ever caught underfoot. Since becoming Mommy, I can stand like Ralph Macchio in the final fight scene of Karate Kid. With "Crane" position full-on, I brush every single crumb off the sole of my foot and into the opposite hand thus preserving the kitchen floor.
Occasionally, I'll go for the gold and swing my foot over the garbage disposal and brush it off that way instead. Either gets the job done, it just depends on my proximity to the sink during "crunch time."
Case in Point #3: Self-Regulated Plumbing.
My high interest in Pumpkin's bottom was my bottom line: flushing it down costs less than throwing it away.
When Pumpkin upgraded to a toddler bed, she decided to serve as my alarm clock on the weekends. I awoke one morning to her standing next to my bedside in her PJ top, nekkit from the waist down.
"What in the world...where did the rest of your PJ's go?!"
"I just kicked off my undies on the potty. I didn't want them any more."
"You sat on the potty all by yourself and did all your business in the potty?"
"Yeah. And I wiped all by myself too!"
::big hugs:: "What a BIG GIRL! And did you wash your hands?"
"Uh....no. I forgot."
(Don't freak, it's just pee hopefully...) "Ok, Mommy go with you to get them all clean."
I noticed her curtain was open when we passed her bedroom. Apparently, Little Miss Independent gave a bit of a show to the neighbors in the units across the driveway. I double checked the state's online sex offender registry during breakfast just to ensure I didn't have to nail her curtain to the wall in case I couldn't curb the peep show with verbal cues.
Besides achieving the critical milestone of successful potty training, I would benefit personally from this beyond the obvious.
My nose evolved into a bloodhound's detecting capabilities during my second trimester. Sniffing everything proved a blessing and a curse. As a result, I ate solely with my left hand because my right index and middle fingers perpetually smelled of Desitin and Vasaline for 3 solid years.
No matter how often I washed, those two fingers had a zinc oxide grout in between the teeny tiny grooves of my unique sequence of prints. Theoretically, I could've committed a crime, in case I turned hostile from the sleep deprivation, and potentially remained undetected in any Homeland Security criminal history record...
Fortunately, I avoided turning into a perp (by the skin of my teeth some days), and I could now begin the transition back to eating burgers two-handed like a normal human instead of "new mom" style.
If you have any little things in your life that make your day a little brighter, please share them by posting a comment below!
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