Tuesday, November 22, 2011

on mothers.

today i was trying on a green coat in the fitting room at kohl's when i overheard two teenagers talking in the room next to me. the first girl asked her friend for the time and upon her companion's reply "9:30," remarked: "great. we better get going. my mom's going to freak out on me." "seriously, why?" was the exasperated response. the first girl sighed louder than was necessary, and said, "she's so lame. she called me after she watched the news because she saw some story about a kid getting kidnapped. seriously, what does she think is going to happen to me? i can't wait to go to college." (i'm paraphrasing a smidge and omitting a whole bunch of like's and umm's, but you get the general picture.) i almost left my dressing room to barge into theirs and explain how being a mother changes you. how things you never thought you'd worry about now occupy your mind all. the. time. i almost wagged my finger and reprimanded them for their lack of understanding, their lack of empathy for the women that brought them into the world, their naivete about what it means to bring a life into this world and watch it crawl then walk around outside your body. i stopped myself, though, because i don't know these girls, and it's not my battle to fight. someday they will hold the tiny warm bundle of their first son or daughter and they will immediately and intuitively understand why their mother insisted on a 10:00 curfew. why their father put a prohibition on dating before age 16. why seatbelts were required and sleepovers were always supervised. time will teach them these lessons, and she will do a much better job than i could in a kohl's dressing room.

after this exchange, i got this overwhelming urge to run home and check on my son. he'd been sleeping for a little over an hour, and i knew everything was fine, but i just needed to see the rise and fall of his chest, hear his rhythmic breathing. i hurried out of the store, drove home and quickly climbed the stairs to his room, where i stood beside his crib and watched him sleep. ohhh sweet baby, how many more years are you mine before you think i'm lame? how many precious moments of being your hero and your sweetheart do i have before i'm the most annoying dork you've ever known?

well, until that time, whenever it may be, i vow to revel in all these moments where jack thinks we (his parents) are the coolest people to roam the earth. i will continue to delight in seeing the way his face lights up when i greet him in the morning. i will continue to treasure his squeals as he peeks around the corner of our room and sees his daddy hiding under the covers. i will never forget the way he lays his head on my shoulder and pats my back. i will remember these moments now... and when jack wants to talk shit in a kohl's dressing room with his friends.

and speaking of mothers and mothering, i finished another cheap-o christmas craft, which doubles as a thanksgiving hostess gift for my mom.

i will NOT be making 12 different christmas garlands, i just love burlap (as you know) and think this will look adorable with my parent's country/farmhouse vibe. if you're interested in the play-by-play, message me. again, i freehanded the pattern, used supplies i had on hand and voila... christmas garland to say "thanks for being awesome even when i was shithead teen-ager, mom." happy thanksgiving!

1 comment:

  1. This post was hilarious.
    Mostly because I can see you in that dressing room getting fired up.

    Love you!