Jeanine from Raising Complicated Kids is my guest this lovely Friday morn. She’s a co-Coloradan, and I’m delighted she agreed to cover for me as I wind my way through the tail end of a multi-generational road trip.
I am so excited to be guest posting. So much so, it’s taken me all week to come up with something I thought might be post-worthy. Yes, this is the perfectionist in me (and people wonder where my kids get it).
I’m another Colorado parent, mom to 4 beautiful, imp-like, sassy and precocious kids. And right smack dab in the middle are 12-yr-old twins. In addition to being all of the above, they’re my complicated two.
During their pregnancy, I had huge morning sickness issues. More accurately, I could be seen running to the bathroom morning, noon, night and just about every moment in between. I was so worried that my poor babies wouldn’t develop properly because I denied them this vital nutrition.
Yes, mommy guilt starts early around these parts.
To this, my doctor calmly answered, “Don’t worry, they’ll be OK. And if they need to, they’ll just take from you.”
Ain’t that the truth?
Twelve years later I now realize how prophetic that simple phrase was. It especially hit home today.
As I walked past the mirror, the hag staring back at me stopped me dead in my tracks. Frizzy, uncombed hair, huge circles under the eyes and not a stitch of make up anywhere. The look was completed by the spots on my PJs – yes, I was still unshowered and in my pajamas at 12 noon.
How could I let myself go so?
Well, it might have to do with the fact that if I left my boys unattended for a second, they might kill each other. Or that no one can seem to eat breakfast, get dressed and pick up after themselves without me hovering over their shoulder shouting whispering play-by-play reminders into their ears. Then there’s the endless stream of IEP meetings, doctors’ appointments I find myself managing.
Multiply this by four, plus the dog needing to be fed, and a teenager requiring chauffeur services every hour on the hour, and its official. There’s nothing left for me.
What could possibly make this worse?
With no break from the action, I’m starting to resemble Scottie of Star Trek fame more and more each day. Yes, I know I’m probably dating myself big time, but just run with it, even if you’re too young for this reference.
So if you happen to spy a chronically crazed, somewhat ill-tempered mom who has a slight issue with deadlines (yeah, I was planning to get this written by Monday) — have pity. I’m just trying to hang on until the leaves start falling and the kids are safely tucked away in their schools once again.