I had an amazing day on Sunday, and I wanted to write it down before I forgot how truly spectacular it was.
It didn’t really start well. Vinnie is STILL battling ear infections – he’s had them nonstop since the beginning of November! – and he’s got teeth coming in right smack in the middle of a developmental phase.. so basically, he’s a hot, unhappy mess.
Sidenote: an interesting thing happens when go from two kids to three. You suddenly can’t parent in a man-to-man defense kind of way, which is how we’ve operated for five years. No, suddenly, you’re thrust into a zone defense, and that means that there is never a break. Ever. Someone is always suffering, and someone always is in need of being tagged out. The bench never gets warm.
So the weekend itself was rough. Tony’s overtired, Jack is very clearly thirteen now, and Vinnie is the aforementioned hot mess. We’re all exhausted and edgy and 4/5 of us are not even fit to clean up after ourselves. (GUESS WHICH PART OF THE FRACTION I AM. GUESS.)
Anyway, we had a birthday party scheduled on Sunday afternoon.
I had hoped to get at least a shower prior to the party since, you know, other moms and whatnot, but that was not meant to be. So I reeked of Desitin and spit-up and burned orange rolls because it had been THAT kind of morning. And we were running a little late and I just knew that I had pulled the short straw when I volunteered to take Tony to this party.
Except – it was awesome.
The weather – for mid-January, even in Alabama – was AMAZING. Easily 60 degrees and sunny. And once we got into the van, I realized – there was no baby yelling in my ear. There was no noise outside of the occasional discussion about heaven and dying and how do you get bacon in heaven since there’s no killing in heaven and pigs OBVIOUSLY go to heaven so how, Momma?
We got to the party, and there were two of my high school friends, one of which I haven’t seen in YEARS. Here we are, back in the day:
The most awesome thing is that she? LOOKS EXACTLY LIKE THIS EVEN STILL. She’s so gorgeous! Intimidatingly gorgeous!
But the thing about Catherine is that she is so sweet. She’s always been this way. She’s so approachable and fun and she’s now a teacher and she married her high school sweetheart (who I kind of work with, so I see him a lot) and it’s so cool to see that we grew into the best parts of who we were when we were young.
Talking to her through the party, while our kids ran around together, MADE MY DAY. We laughed about old friends, we talked about our present lives, we commiserated over being a mom in this world.
Being a mom – especially a working mom – can be so very isolating. I don’t know about every working mom, but I feel like I personally try and put on a different facade at work: I don’t mind if you know I’m a mom (I mean, I love my kids and they’re all over my desk), but I want you to see me as a productive member of the team first. As such, you’re not a Mom at work. Which is fine .. I prefer this.
But at home, you’re ONLY Mom. You walk in the door after an
eight nine ten hour day to start cooking dinner and get homework going and get the laundry started while you’re making the baby’s dinner and unloading the dishwasher and you know this routine. You know it. So you’re not an employee here. Which is fine .. I prefer this.
Having said all this, when do you get to be everything? Apparently at a kid’s birthday party, where you get to catch up with one of your high school BFFs.
Icing on the Sunday cake: I needed to run into the store for one thing (ONE THING – I had grabbed the wrong kind of soup earlier that day while grocery shopping) and with just one kid? You just run into the store and then you’re done. It’s the most mind-blowing thing. No cart-wrangling and diaper bag and baby carrier and timing. None of that. You just do what you need to do and leave.
Last night, when Tony and I were hanging out after dinner, he asked if he could color a picture. “For that boy,” he said. “From the party. He was older than me? But he was really nice? I want to color a picture for him.”
Catherine’s boy. The next generation must carry on our shenanigans.