Stop It, Mommy!

Once you're a mom, it's hard to turn off that mom voice.  Even when you wish you could.  Even when you can tell that you're annoying your child, but you just can't stop!  Heck, sometimes I'm annoying MYSELF, and I still can't turn it off.

I know I can't keep my children in bubbles, and I know they need to make mistakes in order to learn.  So why is it so hard to let them do it, then?

I think it's because we're also supposed to protect our children; that's our job too.  And I love my children so much that it's hard to see them hurt themselves or fail something.

They're young yet, as well.  I hope the 'letting go' will happen more when they're teenagers....because I need several years to practice!

My oldest son (eight) was at a track meet, and I was there to watch him.  I kept bugging him about drinking enough fluids so he wouldn't get dehydrated, and he kept brushing me off (rolling his eyes and walking away).  But I was persistent, unfortunately for him.

I followed him around, holding out his juice box.  "How about some apple juice?"  I suggested brightly.  "What about water?  Hmmm?  Some nice cold water?"

I suppose the key would be pretending that I didn't care at all, but by then it was too late for that.

"You need to drink enough fluids...." my voice trailed off feebly as my son literally ran away from me.

Later on I noticed that he and his friends were lying on their backs, having a chugging contest with their water bottles.  They were each trying to drink the entire water bottle all at once; that was the game.

You'd think I would be happy that he was finally drinking something.  Sadly, no.

I rushed over and in front of all his friends I said, "Colin!  You shouldn't do that.  You're about to run and you don't want to run with tons of water sloshing around in your tummy."

Again, the rolling of eyes and the sigh.  Poor kid.  I can't help myself!  I'm going to have to learn how to bite my lip and keep my mouth shut.

The other day my mom was admonishing my 32 year old brother about wearing sunscreen, and he rolled his eyes as well, just like my son.  I guess some things never change. 

As I was leaving the track meet, without thinking I yelled in earshot of all his friends, "Bye Honey! I LOVE YOU!"  

Oops.

Driving Me Crazy

This summer we're going on a road trip for two weeks with our three children to Cape Breton.  I'm really looking forward to it.  But I have done a couple of road trips with children in which I swore vehemently to myself as I was banging my head against the car door that I would never, ever, ever do that again.  However, the kids are older now.  And I told my husband that it would be fine to do it, as long as we install a three-screened DVD along with a Wii, a PlayStation, and an X-box in the van.  And a convenience store.  Just a small request.

But I remember what it was like when we drove our five month old son to Florida.

As we set off, my husband said cheerfully, "Okay, let's try to get several good hours of driving in before we stop!"  Ten minutes later, we heard a loud explosion from our son.  My husband's eyes met mine pleadingly in the rear view mirror.  Sympathetically, I shook my head.  "Sorry, hon, we have to stop - he pooped through everything, including his overcoat!  It's all up his back!"

By Hour 10 my son had thoroughly inspected, chewed on, rattled and waved around almost every toy and book I had packed, even the completely new, never before seen Last Resort Toy.  I sang songs until my throat was hoarse.  By Hour 12 I was fantasizing about forcing my husband to drive to an airport, so Colin and I could fly the rest of the way.

It got to the point that we began arguing over who got to drive, since the other person had to entertain Colin.

"Honey, it's my turn to drive.  You must be exhausted!"  I announced to my husband firmly, feigning concern for his well-being.

He shook his head.  "No, that's okay...I've still got lots of energy,"  my husband insisted, although he'd been driving for four hours.  He gripped the steering wheel tighter.  "Really, I insist."

I gave up being diplomatic.  "I'm driving and that's FINAL!  Pull over, mister!"

With my husband in the backseat, Colin began wailing. "If you're happy and you know it, clap your hands,"  my husband sang optimistically.  Colin wailed louder.  The clapping trailed off.  I resisted the urge to giggle.  Now it was my turn to grip the steering wheel and surreptitiously turn up the radio.  As I avoided mammoth trucks and aggressive tailgaters, I sighed to myself.  What a nice break!

When it was my turn to entertain my son again (after a brief but spirited tussle over the car keys in the parking lot of a McDonald's) we had completely run out of diversions and Colin had decided he wanted out of the car seat NOW.  I began desperately searching the car for new items.  Water bottle, Kleenex, extra diaper, extra clothing...  Colin looked at me when the last Kleenex had been ripped apart.  He knew I didn't have any more distractions.  He began opening his mouth to yell.  I looked frantically around the car.  Aha - there was one thing left in the car that he hadn't played with yet.  Frantically I bellowed, "GIVE ME THE MAP!"

My husband paled.  He looked over his shoulder at me nervously.  "But honey...we NEED the map."

I scowled at him in the rear-view mirror.  "We can buy another!  Do you think my sanity is worth more than a map?  Don't answer that!  Give. Me. The. Map!"

My husband took a deep breath, began to say something, noticed the frenzied look in my eyes, and then silently and reluctantly handed it back to me.  There was a brief tug of war before I seized it triumphantly and deposited it in my son's lap.  I breathed a sigh of relief as Colin began happily whipping the map around, banging his fist on it and ripping it.  I leaned back in my seat.  Whew!

"You show that map who's boss, honey!"  I encouraged him.  "And when it comes back, you show it who's boss again!"

Anyway, the road trip this time will be much better, I'm sure...I'll buy several sets of maps!