Article Contributed on: 5/13/2009 1:54:03 PM
Motherhood. Currently this is my identity. For the last 9 ½ years I have been blessed with the hardest job in the world. I am a mom, and I love it. We have three kids, ages 9, 6, and 4. About three years ago, I thought I might have to spend the remaining years of my life in an institution. But each day I woke up and did what I needed to do, and suddenly my babies are no longer babies. The days I thought would never come, where life gets a tiny bit easier, have come, and I'm not sure I'm happy about it. I just listened to Taylor Swift's song "The Best Day" on her new album, and have to go re-do my eye make-up. Stupid song made me bawl.
I am going to use this blog like a gagillionty other people do-write about the day to day stuff of life. You may be asking yourself, "why would I want to read another blog by some mom who is just going to tell us she left the house with someone else's pee on her shoes."? I don't know why you'd read it, and frankly, I'm not looking to earn anyone's approval. I have no political agenda, and a very small fan base ( see above paragraph for their ages). My goal as a writer is to have a record of my children's lives. They are hilarious and sweet, and for several years now, I've been recording the funny things they do and say. Simply put, this is an opportunity to share those things with someone else.
The one thing I will promise you, is that my goal is to make someone laugh. And if you are just too grumpy to laugh, then I hope at least you smile. I will discuss the usual mom things: why I hate playdates, taking children to the gynecologist because I can't find a sitter, how to explain to a child what a cat in heat is all about...and if you've got some time, I hope you join me once in a while.
Today I leave you with a question:
Why do they think that nine year old boys should learn how to play the recorder? And furthermore, why do they send the recorder HOME with the boy, to play it for his mother all day?
I don't want to stifle my son Jack. Perhaps he has some musical ability, however, he has yet to master the recorder. In fact, he's gone in the opposite direction. Last night, when I had my migraine, and he wanted so badly to show me, "Go tell Aunt Rhody", I felt angry with the music teacher at his school, and wondered why we need to have all those electives anyway. I kept my opinions mostly to myself, unless you count me telling Jack that the recorder is more of a "basement toy", and I really did try to encourage his excitement.
I'm not perfect. But I'm trying.