For the first month, or maybe even two months, of the school year, I was on it.
It being major mom duty.
My girls were coordinated with each other, even though they don’t even attend the same school (and i’ll admit to still doing this, because i’m corny, and I think it’s cute), Izzy was always at school well before the tardy bell, and their packed lunches consisted of homemade banana bread, organic raisins, oranges I cut myself in the morning, and sandwiches shaped with cookie cutters, to add a little style to their lunch, I guess.
And then I got used to this whole school thing.
Somewhere along the way, it stopped really mattering that Izzy’s clothes were perfectly ironed – a few minutes in the dryer while we brush teeth is just fine. I can’t remember the last time I pulled up to the drop-off line before eight – apparently that’s when all the other parents make it too. Hey, as long as it’s before the bell. I put money on her account so she can just grab a tray sometimes, and fruit cups and ritz crackers – the type of stuff they actually eat, instead of letting rot in the lunchbox all day – shows up more often than organic anything.
I care more about sleeping in a little longer than a cutesy lunch. I get upset (i’m working on it though) when I have to beg and threaten my oldest to eat some damned breakfast. I frequently just nod and pretend to listen through long, drawn out stories about what happened at recess. I would be totally okay with not getting five pages of scribbles from my three year old when I pick her up.
When the hell did that happen?
When did the novelty wear off?
Will it come back?
Should I care?
I’m not a super mom. I love my kids, I’m good to them, they’re well taken care of. They’re happy. They’re SUCH happy little girls. Is that the only standard I should really be bothered with, or care about? That even though mommy packs the equivalent of a lunchable in that cutesy box, they know they’re loved? That even though they may barely get to school on time, they’ll come home to a place where they can feel warm and safe? That the clothes may be a little wrinkled, hair may be a little messy, but they’re clean and fed? That sometimes mommy cant listen to stories, but it’s because she and daddy are doing their best to make sure the kids dont ever know student loan debt, or have to worry about taking care of US instead of their own family?
I don’t know.
I’m just… doing the best I can with every moment. They aren’t always good moments, no, but… I’m doing my best. And they’re thriving! They’re having fun, yes, but they’re also growing up.
Starting school, and losing teeth, and having birthdays, and the shit is happening so fast that… I’m afraid it’s going to pass me before I’ve had a chance to… I don’t know. Perfect parenthood. I don’t know if I got parenting a five year old right, and she’s already about to be six.
Did I mess this up?
Am I messing them up?
This isn’t some woe is me, blah blah blah. Barring some major, nutso, crazy thing I know my kids will be fine. I hope my kids will be fine. I’m just reflecting. Freaking out. You know, normal stuff.
Don’t mind me.