When my daughter was an infant/toddler, I was your typical Type-A mom. I had multiple bags neatly filled with wipes, Kleenex, Neosporin and band-aids, just so I would not run out and be left hanging if some boo-boo popped up. And I used to fill in supplies every two weeks, that's how anal-retentive I was.
Now that my daughter is seven, my helicopter mom days are over and I have retired to the benches, reading my paper, checking emails and talking to the other moms, all those activities I used to look on with envy in the early years. Don't worry, I would look up every few minutes just to make sure my daughter was doing okay, but I certainly did not run after her the way I used to.
So when my helicopter mom days ended, I stopped carrying my first-aid bags around and winged it.
Recently, I went to the playground with my daughter, where all the usual running, jumping, laughing type of activities ensued, basically, a lazy afternoon. About 20 minutes into our lazy afternoon, my daughter ran up to me crying that she had fallen and scratched her knee. As we all know, it doesn't matter if it's the least little nick, kids act like they were in a major accident. Of course, I could barely see the scratch and only saw the smallest little speck of blood.
"Mommy, don't you have a band-aid?" she asked while crying. Knowing full well I did not have a band- aid, I feigned rummaging through my bag. "Sorry, I don't have one", giving her my best sad face (I missed my calling as a bad actress.)
"That's okay, I will go ask Sean's mom for one," and off she skedadled. Of course, Sean's mom had a band-aid. I chalked it up to a bad mommy moment and a forgot about it.
A few days later on a playdate with her BFF, my daughter again fell and asked again for a band-aid. I didn't even bother searching in my bag and gave her the sorry, I don't have one look and she announces loudly, "Mommy, you are so disorganized, you never have anything when I get hurt." The other mom sort of gives me the you don't have a band-aid look and pulls one out. I sheepishly mustered a thanks and again forgot about it.
Over the course of the next couple of weeks, little incidents kept happening, spilled ice cream, runny nose, insect bites and I, of course, was completely unprepared.
So bringing my head out of the sand, I acquiesced and started pulling together my first aid kits again because summer is here and it's a matter of time before a nick is not a nick and turns out to be gusher of scratch and I just can't be unprepared.
More importantly, I really don't want my daughter to grow up thinking her mother was disorganized and unprepared when she was a child. I liked her to hang on to the illusion that her mom was supermommy until the dreaded teen years where I transform into evil mommy.
This is an original nycmomsblog post.
2 comments:
As I read, "I feigned rummaging through my bag...." I began cracking up! Hilarious!
Great post.
Jokes aside, I think you make a great point, which is as parents we have to find the middle ground. When my son was smaller, I was the same way -- type-A mom. Until it started to drive me crazy.
Then I became way too relaxed and complacent.
Now, I think I'm somewhere in the middle. And I kinda like this better. And I feel human again.
Hahaha Great post! Had a great time reading it.
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