Which Season Are You Better At Mothering? Newborns, Infants, Toddlers, Preschoolers, etc.

Were you the perfect mom for a newborn?  Are you finding yourself with a knack for the testing toddlers? Maybe your crafty and playful side is a grand match with preschoolers versus your awkward days with infants. Who knows, you may be the meticulous, superstar soccer mom balancing school schedules, practices, recitals, dinner and bedtime. Or maybe you remember your wild teenage days which will keep you one step ahead of your raging teen.

Today, with my 3 1/2-year-old pushing the envelope at every waking moment, I'm starting to think this isn't my best inning in this game of parenthood. If this were Survivor , I'm pretty sure he's on the verge of outwitting, outplaying and outlasting me...even making a fool of me twice as I chased this naked little boy down in our neighborhood - and that was just today!

It wasn't long ago, though, I felt like a pro. Or maybe in hindsight I feel that way, though I probably didn't at the time. Keeping steady, I'd study my hand and play the right cards. I read all the books on raising happy babies and toddlers and kids. I could redirect rather than raise my voice. And he listened, brilliantly.

And then he turned two. He started testing me, but was a child of respect and "no" meant no and "don't" meant don't. Sure, he'd try all the crazy things boys like to do. He'd climb too high at the playground. He'd make me crazy trying to get him strapped in his car seat. He couldn't resist grabbing anything in his reach.

And now...he's 3.

And he's calling my bluff.

The book 1-2-3 Magic used to work like a charm for me. Now he counts to three for me. When we get to three, he laughs. I take him to his room for time out and he repeatedly opens his door - taunting me to give in or give up.  When I say "stay here" -he goes there. When I say "stop" -he runs.

The wildest part of this ride is that when he's not testing me, he's an angel.  The most polite, sweet little boy I've ever met. He thanks me for taking him to the park. He gives me many hugs throughout the day expressing "Mom, I just love you sooo much, I'm going to give you a great big hug now!" And he does.  And its wonderful. He likes to snuggle and he loves to read with me. But lest I leave just a moment of time for him to get bored or distracted...game on!

I've started reading more books on discipline and am trying to dedicate my every day to being consistent with my discipline and establishing a routine.  I know our big move has heightened sensitivities in our home and we've all been adapting.  This may not be my strongest season of motherhood, but I know overall I'm a great mom and there will always be moments like these test our whole soul.  And drive us just a little bit mad. So whether you're in your strongest quarter of your game or struggling to get through to the next period, remember that beyond everything you are a fantastic mom...otherwise you wouldn't care enough to worry about it!   At least that's my mom told me! ;)

A Princess, Poop and the Game of Soccer

I’m so that mom at soccer games.  I’m the one yelling for Callie to get the ball; cheering like one of those crazed mad women we used to hate at all of our own sporting events.  Yep, that’s me!

     So, you can also imagine my disappointment when my four-year-old showed zero interest at her first practice.  Oh wait, she showed interest alright—it just wasn’t in the ball.  It was in the boys, the net…the sky, I mean—anything but soccer.

     Rather than have a complete meltdown, I went to a woman I work with that has an amazing relationship with her daughter.  She of course told me the obvious, “She’s only four Trina, and she’s not supposed to be interested yet.  She’s only out there to have fun.  Please don’t turn out to be one of those moms!”

     So at the next practices and games I watched the parents next to me closely.  When they cheered or gave out pointers, I saw an appropriate opening and chimed in too.  I even ignored Callie adjusting her pretty pink bow and practicing dance moves on the field.  I was so proud of myself!  A future sports momma in the works!

     It was Wednesday, time for practice again right before our big Friday night game.  We had pictures that day, so I had Callie’s hair all fixed in cute little pigtails.  As soon as we walked on the field, I saw a problem.  Goose poop everywhere!  And my little princess does not like to step in poop!  I looked around, trying to figure out a game-plan, none coming to mind.  It was everywhere.  It only took moments for her to notice.   “Mommy, there’s dog poop everywhere!  I don’t want to play!”

     I reassured her we just had to get through pictures and then we’d see where we were.  My little girl would barely bend down on the field to join her team for a group photo.  I’m also pretty sure the photos will come back with her nose all scrunched up and a nasty look on her face.

     Once photos were done, I sighed in relief—now we just had to get through practice.  Callie took one more look around the field.  “Mommy, I don’t feel good!”  She said, grabbing her throat.  Both of her coaches approached her, feeling her head and rubbing her back.

     “I don’t think she feels good, she feels pretty hot.” One of them told me, bringing her over.

      I grabbed her hand and started walking her to the car.  “Callie, are you sure you don’t feel good?”

     “No mom, my throat hurts.” She paused for a moment.  “Do you think they will have the dog poop cleaned up by the game?” 

     I smiled.  I knew it!  Playing hooky to avoid stomping around in poop.  Only my four-year-old!  I tried to explain that it was actually goose poop and then left it alone, hoping she’d forget by Friday.

     Friday morning my little princess awoke in a terrible mood.  She was moving slow, and was surely going to make me late.  “Callie Jo, you need to speed it up.  We have to hurry.”  I rushed both kids in the car and we were off.  As I looked in my rearview mirror, I saw Callie’s arms crossed across her chest and a defiant look on her face.  “What’s wrong honey?”

     “I’m just telling you right now momma, if they haven’t cleaned up that dog poop I’m not playing!”

Has Your Doc Ever Tried To Smooch You?

This is how my doctor appointment went today…

This was my second official visit with this browned-haired Charleston-area doc.   Luckily, I didn’t have to disrobe or even put on a gown.  I thought it was strange that he laid me on the floor, though he did offer a pillow.  He proceeded to inspect my head, neck and arms.  A very kind soul, he kept rubbing my forehead and telling me it’d all be alright.  Honestly, I didn’t know anything was wrong.

“Does your penis hurt?” he asks.

“I don’t have a penis.  I’m a girl.”

“You do.  You have a little penis.”  He says, matter-of-factly.

“No, girls don’t have penises.”

“It’s okay,” he assures.  “You’ll feel better soon.  There’s a machine right here.”  He then covers me with a blanket and pulls it up under my chin.  He reaches across me to pull up the blanket, inadvertently choking me with his elbow several times. 

He instructs, “You need to cooperate.”  I thought I was.  Then I wondered where he learned that word.  Cooperate.

He gently touches my cheek.  “Awww.  You’ll feel better soon.  I’m a doctor.”  I’m holding back my hysterics now, with a few chuckles slipping out.

“Don’t cry, you will be okay.”  He kisses my cheek and then one eyelid, “I love you, mommy.  I’ll be your doctor everytime.”