Things start to change at 40. Your boobs aren't where they used to be, your knees start to make noises they didn't before. You want to sleep late, but you can't because you need to pee. All really fun stuff. But as I have started to physically decline, my role as a mom remains the same. So I still need the same energy, the same enthusiasm and the same zest for parenting. Nope, not so much. I am happy that they still are alive at the end of the day. Truth be told, the reality is somewhere in the middle of those two scenarios, but I do try almost the best that I can.
Doctor Knows Best
Sometimes I think that I am the worst mom in the world, and at the same time, my kids are probably thinking I am the best mom in the world. Like when I insist on buying them vitamins, but because I have no memory, I forget to give them to them. Every year at their well checkups, the pediatrician asks them if they take vitamins and my boys will look at me, look back at the doctor and say, "Mommy buys them, but then she doesn't give them to us." And then the doctor looks at me with a disapproving glance. Good times.
Let Them Eat Cookies
Or when they tell me that they like white fudge Oreos. I buy six boxes of them (after all, they say "limited edition" on the box-which I think is really just code for, "We will charge you almost four dollars for 12 Oreos). They don't like what I am serving for dinner-go ahead, eat four milky ways, I don't care. I really suck as a mom. As I have said before, I have no idea what I am doing and my boys are totally on to me.
The Miracles of Buying Presents
My family is Jewish and we celebrate Chanukah. The holiday of miracles. The miracle of one night of oil lasting for eight nights, the miracle of my husband saying he is going to take our oldest son for a suit. Of course, they only came home with a belt, so the whole outing lost its miraculous quality, but a belt is better than nothing, I guess. And then there is the miracle of buying gifts for my boys who are, actual, real life miracles.
As I perused the aisles of Target in search of some gifts(since I am the worst mom and hadn't gotten my miracles anything-I think I am still scarred from the polar fleece fiasco of 2005-who says boys don't cry-it was just a gosh darn sweatshirt, it's not like I gave them homework for a gift. Geez, give your fat mom a break...).
Sorry, back to Target. Nothing, I could not find one thing that I thought they would like. Too old for coloring books and crayons (ahh, the good old days), can't buy a video game without pre approval because you can't return the game once it has left the store. Books? Yeah, that's funny. So I went to the department that I know best. Food.
Food IS love
That's right. For the first night of Chanukah, son #1 got a family value size box of Honeycombs, son #2 got two packages of Hershey bars(can you say dinner?) and son #3 got Kit Kats. I got laughs and big thank you's from two of the three sons. The third one will just have to learn to roll with the punches(both literally, and unfortunately, physically... why can't they just freakin get along?!)
So the moral of this story is when in doubt, the mantra of, "Food is love," can apply to any situation, even Chanukah presents. I am hoping to pull off the gift of Poland Springs water bottle with the sports tops. After all, it has the word 'sport' in it. That's gotta count for something-right?
Wishing all of you a happy and healthy holiday season. May we appreciate the gifts we get, the gifts we have and the gifts we give. That makes no sense, but my Ambien is kicking in...It's fun being 40!