In response to Pass me a beer - please! at Blooming Marvelous, I found myself writing a blog entry of my own in Annie's comments. Wrong place, chicky. Annie doesn't want your blather over there. So, with a hefty chunk pulled from said comment, the blather continues here.
Annie and I were chatting yesterday on IM about her having discovered her daughter "painting" with toothpaste in the bathroom. In the middle of a more-than-hectic day, her sweet mother was considering turning off the sweet in response to this artistic, uh, expression. Before I get into how I totally understood, I admit that the response I sent her was that toothpaste experiments were one thing on my "free pass" list for my sons. It's not because I am a "funner" mom, as Annie (quoting her daughter) put it, but rather a mom with a promise to keep. A promise made to myself about two decades ago.
When I was little, I was mad about chapter books. This was before the coming of Barnes & Noble, et al., so I got most of mine from little book fairs at my elementary school. One of my favorites was Beverly Cleary's Ramona and Her Mother. On the cover was a picture of Ramona squeezing out an entire tube of toothpaste into the bathroom sink.
The toothpaste-squeezing episode in the book shot straight to the heart of me. This was something that I dearly wanted to do. Why couldn't I be as wild and crazy as Ramona? I think at this point in my young life, the most reckless thing I had done was mix a bottle of my Cabbage Patch perfume with a brand new bottle of my mom's Giorgio perfume... together, in a snow boot. Lord bless the mother. Whatever her response to that must have been, it made me hesitant to do the toothpaste thing. Well, damn.
I swore to myself then and there that when I was a mom, I would be cooler than my own mother (by my elementary school standards) and would therefore let my kids squeeze out a tube of toothpaste whenever they damn well pleased. This would be, in my estimation, the epitome of cool mom things to do. It never occurred to me that letting them do it would take the fun out of it, but nevertheless.
My boys aren't up to chapter books, yet, but when they are, I will buy them a copy of Ramona and Her Mother. I will also buy a cheap tube of toothpaste and be sure to leave it out for little hands to find. When they decide to squeeze it out into my purse rather than the sink, I will remember the promise I made to myself so long ago, and remind myself that this is one small thing not worth sweating.
Other small things not worth sweating this week: (cont'd)
We bought some of those great magnetic letters and numbers for the fridge. After playing with them and cheerfully identifying them for a while together, I left the room and overheard my husband apparently hold one up to Pants and say, "Which one is this?" To which, Pants replied, "White! Eleven? Y!" He is nothing if not persistent. To his credit, it was a yellow "1." So no, my 2 year 9 month old son can not identify all of his letters and numbers and colors, yet. Many of my friends' same-age children can do all of the above. This concerns me none. He'll get it. He's enthusiastic and persistent; that's all that matters.
Nothing in the world can take the place of persistence. Talent will not; nothing is more common than unsuccessful men of talent. Genius will not; the world is full of educated derelicts. Persistence and determination alone are omnipotent. --Calvin Coolidge
Finally, my husband, Maguire, offered to take care of the boys so that I could treat myself to a movie the other night. I was out of there faster than you can say "Call me if you have any problems!" Upon returning home, I stuck my head into the boys' bedroom to check on them sleeping and noticed the distinct smell of vapo rub. Surely Pants didn't get sick while I was out? Al would know better than to put vapo rub on Cheeks?
All seemed well enough, so I went to bed and decided not to worry about it. The next morning during Cheeks's 5am morning meal in bed, I noticed the vapo rub smell again. It seemed to be coming from his diaper. Certainly... no... that doesn't make any sense. I asked Maguire if he had put any vapo rub on the boys and he said no. Okay, fine.
Soon after, during their morning diaper changes, I noticed a tube of vapo cream I had recently bought during a cold of Pants's. Cream in a tube looking deceptively like diaper cream.
Apprehensive Mommy: Honey, did you use this "diaper" cream in the green tube?
Proud Daddy: Yep. And I wasn't going to put it on Pants but he didn't mind this time. So see, I didn't forget!At least I got to go to a movie and no one called me with silly diaper cream questions. And their butts will smell fresh for days.
These are days to remember. Keep it in perspective. Don't cry over spilled milk. By the way, I did snap at Pants over spilling milk this week. However, I should point out that it took until the third spill for me to finally snap. So, see, Annie, I'm not "funner" after all. I'm just--- oh, no!!!, I know he did not just throw that toy at his brother again! How many times do I have to-- I'm about to hafta-- Don't you run away from me, you little...!!!