You know “that” mom, don’t you? (If you aren’t reading the word “that” with extreme cynicism, then you aren’t reading it correctly. In other words, “that” mom is a b-a-d thing…)
The other day, we were packing for a nice weekend trip to the lake with friends. The house was clean and the car was packed. We were just finishing up a few last minute details- so Baby E was just exploring a little. As I walked past his room, I looked in and GASPED. That’s right, I gasped. Wanna know what made me gasp? He was playing with the toys that are on top of his toybox.
Let me repeat that- because the first time I wrote it, I am not sure the craziness really came across. Elijah was playing with the DECORATIVE toys that I carefully arranged on his toybox when he was newborn. You see, his room is really only used for bedtime at this point, because we mostly play in the “living area” of the house. So there it was- my moment of truth- was I going to be “that” mom who rushes in and diverts his attention, carefully rearranging the toys, or was I going to be the cool mom who realizes that Baby E is growing up and there can’t be “decorative” toys within reach of an undiscerning almost one-year-old.
Yep. You guessed it. Or maybe you just read the title of this blogpost.
I definitely chose to be “that” mom. I gave him a good minute or so to revel, then I pulled a motherly swoop & rearranged those bad boys in the blink of an eye, diverting his attention to some less- decorative items.
Is that bad? Seriously, I get that E is growing up & I LOVE it. But for now, since there are toys in a living room toybox & not in his bedroom toybox, I have chosen to keep his room looking cute as long as possible- with the full realization that the day is coming. The day when that room looks like a tornado ripped through, leaving only a mischievously grinning toddler behind. Really, I am ready for that day…I think.
But until then- you’ll find me in line at the grocery store with an alphabetized coupon binder, at a restaurant spitting on my finger to clean a little face, or simply organizing toys for the umpteenth time…and I’ll be the one wearing the badge that says, “Hello, my name is: THAT Mom.”