The Unconventional Mom

Okay, I will admit it. I am not, what some would call a “normal” mother. Whew! It feels good to get that out. I am not exactly sure what it means to be a normal mother, but I do know that I do not have the patience of June Cleaver or the togetherness of Claire Huxstable. My house is not spotless like my Aunt Jewell’s and at any given time you may get up from my sofa to find a Fruit Loop stuck to the leg of your pants. I do not have witty comebacks and moral monologues on standby for just the right moment. Sometimes I don’t know what to say when my son asks me a particularly thought provoking question so I change the subject or turn on the radio or apologize once again for his father’s perpetual absence. Lean in close when you read this…sometimes, I really don’t know what the hell I’m doing!!

It is normal I think to feel inadequate at times. Everyone has standards of what the perfect mother should be and to some degree, we all fall short and feel guilty that some thing, somewhere is not getting done right or on time.

My finicky son has recently decided that he doesn’t like breakfast food, of any kind really except for Fruit Loops—dry. I freak out about the lack of nutrition and fortitude in such a breakfast so I feed him what he will eat, chicken sandwiches, chicken fingers and tater tots (which is kind of like a hash brown, right?), and once even a hot dog. I know it’s appalling, but a full stomach before school is all I’m after and if it takes something unconventional then so be it.

Don’t get me wrong, I have my sticklers, clothes have to be clean and pressed, schoolwork must be neat, adults are to be respected (Mr. Jack or Ms. Kelly), and we’re working on proper table manners. Try as I might, I am not as organized as I’d like to be and I can’t always serve on a PTA committee. But I do the best I can and right now I suppose that’s all I can do.

Lessons From the Tooth Fairy

Yesterday, I had one of those truly awesome parental moments. My six year-old son, Isaiah lost his first tooth. He was so excited to be getting a visit (and some money) from the tooth fairy that he went to bed early. I waited until I knew he was good and asleep, crept into his room, took the tooth from under his pillow and replaced it with a nice crisp dollar bill. The next morning he excitedly lifted the pillow and said, “I knew it. I knew she was going to leave me a dollar.” I just laughed and shook my head, thinking as I did the day he took his first steps or learned to ride a bike, that moments like these are why you have kids.

Later that day when we stopped at the grocery store, my son decided he wanted some candy. I told him he had candy at home. But he didn’t want that candy. He wanted a bag of Skittles from the store. Fine, I said, if you want the Skittles then you’ll have to buy it with your own money. He said he didn’t have any money, to which I replied that he’d just gotten a dollar that morning from the tooth fairy. “But I left that at home on my dresser” he said, and replied that I could pay for the candy with my credit card like the rest of the groceries. Never mind that kids always have a way of volunteering their parents to do something they want, like you could just put it on your credit card. Really, can I?

But then, I thought this could be a good opportunity to see if he’d learned to keep to his word. So I explained to him that if I bought the Skittles then he would have to pay me back when we got home and he readily agreed.

True to form when we got home as I was putting the groceries away, my son, with a mouth full of Skittles says, “Well Mom, a deal’s a deal. I owe you a dollar.” He handed me the dollar without a trace of reluctance. I was genuinely moved so much so that I couldn’t take the money. “That’s being an honorable guy Isaiah,” I said. “What does Mommy always say to you?” I asked. “Do what I say I’m going to do,” he replied. “That’s right,” I said but told him to take back the dollar and put it in his piggy bank.

I know what some of you are thinking…that that’s a terrible way to teach a kid about money. After all, the bank doesn’t give you anything when you borrow money and you pay it back as agreed. In fact they charge interest and are fairly unsympathetic to what kind of lesson you’ve learned. However, I am not a bank. I am a mother who was so proud of her son understanding the importance of keeping his agreements that I didn’t have the heart to take his tooth fairy money.

Facing so many challenges as a single mother, and perhaps the largest of which not being able to teach my son how to be a man, not being one myself and all. But I made an important decision years ago. This is the hand we got dealt. It’s not an ideal situation but if I pray, follow God’s word, see to it that he has good male role models and do the best I can to impart in him the character traits essential to being a good and productive human being then we would be, and he would be just fine. So far, so good.

First Days and First Grade

The morning begins like any other morning except it is the first day of school. I get up late, which is of course normal for me. Struggle to get Isaiah out of the bed, washed up, dressed, fed and out the door on schedule—yet failing as usual (also normal for me). It’s okay though admitting you have a problem is the first step. And I am always running five minutes late. Always, always, always, no matter what I do it seems. Today we experience a series of delays thwarting our planned exit of 7:15 a.m. First Isaiah’s shoes are on the wrong feet, his socks are upside down, he smeared toothpaste on his shirt and spills a whole bowl of Fruit Loops on the floor just as we were about to leave.

I take deep breaths and try to relax. I am a mother. I can do many things, some of them all at once. I am superwoman. But I cannot control time. So I decide to let it go. Serenity now… I refuse to stress about the spilled cereal, the toothpaste stain, the mixed up shoes and upside down socks with the heel on the tops of his feet. We have to go right now, right this second or he will be late for school. When we arrive in front of the school it is complete pandemonium. Cars are parked on the sides of the street and in the grass. Hurried parents are escorting children across parking lots, up sidewalks and into the school. We have ten minutes before the first bell rings and Isaiah races me to front door. Alas we make it with minutes to spare. I hand the teacher his school supplies and tell him goodbye so that I can stop by the cafeteria and pay for his lunch before heading off to work. He is already sitting at the table with two other kids coloring worksheets. I give him a quick squeeze and a kiss on the cheek. “Mom” he says, “please don’t do that in public.”

I just laugh and say okay. On the way to work I call my nieces who are also getting ready for the first day of school to tell then to have a good day. And then I wonder where all the time went. When did I go from having a baby to a pre-schooler to a first grader? When did I go from the baby who squealed when he saw me and leapt into my arms when I came to pick him up from daycare, to this kid who is reading and writing and warning me against public displays of affection? Whoever said they grow up fast wasn’t kidding. But I think I have this mommy thing down a little bit now, you pick your battles, don’t sweat the small stuff and try to savor every moment.