It's better abbreviated, trust me

I like telling stories, which is why I like blogging (when I get the time AND can remember what I wanted to blog about, which is rare). I have a story from today, but I don't really feel like telling it, and I've written this post over and over and keep deleting it 'cause it's just not coming out right. So I'll just summarize: SUNSHINE! PLAYGROUND! KEYSLOCKEDINTHECAR! RAIN! TORRENTIAL DOWNPOUR! AAA RESCUE!
the end.

Isn't all clothing reversible??

I had a chiropractic appointment this morning. It's the fourth one in a week! I'd been seeing a chiropractor regularly - once a month - in Nashville (Dr. Sanford). However, this guy (Dr. Russell) took one look at my x-ray and has me coming in three times a week for six weeks, then twice a week for five weeks, then once a week for another three weeks, before we'll be ready to only come in once a month. That's a lot of visits! C and I are really glad that I'm going to get everything fixed. On the other hand, we're wondering why the other guy (Dr. Sanford) was content to have me come in only once a month. A little disconcerting. Complacent doctors are the worst kind.

So, at the chiropractor's this morning, he (Dr. Russell) pointed out that my shirt was on backwards. I wasn't really that embarrassed, at first, until he laughed so hard. I didn't think it was very nice. I mean, obviously I have my hands too full with two little boys to be worried about which way I have my shirt on. But besides the obvious, I was rather distracted this morning while I was trying to get dressed. We were running just a little behind this morning because I didn't get up until Z came into my room at 7:20. (You remember we lock his door? Well, apparently it doesn't always latch. So even though it's LOCKED and the knob won't turn, it still pulls open because it isn't LATCHED. Rather frustrating) Did I mention that C is out of town again? He got whisked away for three days for business. So I was on my own this morning to get all three of us pottied, clothed, fed, and out the door. I was about to put my shirt on when Z came into my closet holding two pieces of glass. Broken glass. Yes, my two year old had gotten ahold of broken glass and was PLAYING WITH IT. I dropped my shirt on the floor and took care of the child. Fortunately he came away with just a little cut on his thumb, which was easily patched with a band aid (which is still on at almost 5pm, surprisingly). When I finally got back to my closet to finish throwing clothes on, I (obviously) didn't pay attention to whether my shirt was right-side-out or not (I don't throw my clothes in the hamper after wearing them just once; they go on the hanger inside out to be worn again. This is repeated until (a) laundry day or (b) the item is too stained to go into public.)

So I didn't think it was very nice of Dr. Russell to laugh so hard. I didn't bother explaining though. I'll just be sure that my shirt is on right when we go in tomorrow. Maybe it'll motivate me enough to get up on time!

On motherhood

I miss blogging. I have been dying to blog! There are so many things I want to blog about! But I have so many other things to do, that blogging gets pushed back indefinitely. And everyday that I don't get here is another day's worth of topics floating around in my head, and then I just get overwhelmed, forget them all, and start over.

Laurie's post inspired me this morning. I don't have people loudly complaining (or complaining at all) when I don't blog (though sometimes I wish I did), but she inspired me nonetheless.

What I've been meaning to blog about: response to another fantastic post by Meagan Francis. I don't remember which post it was, or when she wrote it, or I'd link directly to it. I just spent the last ten minutes looking for it, which also happened to be the last ten minutes of D's nap, so now I'm trying to finish this with a squirmy baby on my lap. So far so good!

Where was I?

Meagan's post was about the responsibility that comes with motherhood. Not just parenthood, but motherhood. There's something special about Mom. And it's not just that she can feed baby and no one else can until he's been introduced to a bottle. I didn't understand or realize this until I read her post. I thought it was a parent thing and that C and I were equal partners. I would often lament/scold that I was the only one who got everything needed together when we went out. Why couldn't he remember the sippy cup of water for once? But after reading Meagan's post, I realized that it was probably unrealistic of me to expect him to take over sometimes. He's just not wired for it. It's my responsibility and privilege to remember the sippy cup.

The exclusiveness of my role as Mom was further revealed to me over the holidays while we had family visiting. They always looked to me. If there was a question regarding one of the boys, it was me they turned to, expecting me to have all the answers and tell them what to do. I remember the same thing when Z was a baby. My internal response was often, "but you (speaking to my mom or my mother-in-law) have more experience with babies, shouldn't you know what to do?" I realize now that it wasn't just about raw number of hours caring for children, it's also a question of whose children they are!

Another example: Z picked up a cold (at the dr's office, again) and kindly shared it with as many of us as he could, including his 1-month old brother. (I tell ya, there's nothing sadder than a congested infant!). As C and I were getting ready to go to sleep, we listened to D's congested breathing and C commented that I was an amazing woman. "Why? What do you mean?" I asked. He explained that I had a sleepless night ahead of me, but that I was going to do it (care for sick D). I had two simultaneous reactions. One was positive ("Yes, I AM going to take care of my baby!") and the other was negative ("You don't have work tomorrow, why do I have to be the only one who suffers?").

Yes, I am Mommy (hear me roar!). I forget sometimes, and get irritated at C (and other family), but in the end, I wouldn't trade it for anything! (Though I wouldn't have minded being able to finish this post in one sitting without infant and toddler interruptions...)