Please excuse my sorry excuses for poetry. I have been very turned inside myself again lately and that crap just comes out - it's really just for myself but if it turns out to touch a nerve in someone else then - hey, that's a complete bonus.
I say not again because I had another one of those "my baby is simply NOT a baby" moments again today. It was during a totally benign and somewhat annoying situation.
My sister and I and my mom had plans today to go shopping for bridesmaids dresses - sis's wedding is now just 4 months away and with the shortness of her engagement combined with the chaos of her finishing her residency, taking her boards, moving, and starting her fellowship, that task has sort of fallen by the wayside.
I got up this morning hung over like nobody's business, which was my own damn stupid fault because in an impromptu visit to the neighbor's house last night, my neighbor and I polished off 2 bottles (gahhhhh) of wine. LOL. OOPS.
Needless to say I was attempting to wake up and rid myself of said hangover so as to be a productive participant in this shopping excursion when Hubby got home from D&D and said "I have a migraine - I'm sorry, I have to go to bed." I knew what this meant - I now had the pleasure of taking myt son with me on the trip (because it was 10 minutes before I had to leave and both sets of neighbors, who would normallhy have taken him, were leaving on trips...). Hung over. Oh boy.
I told G and he was not exactly thrilled until I told him he could bring 2 books and his DS. Magic words. ;-)
We got to the first place and he was not a happy camper until he found a nice little spot to sit underneath a collection of knee-length dresses. He was so damn cute, reading under there and flirting with the girls as they checked out the dresses, often surprising them with his presence and always flirting. SO CUTE!
We wound up going to a second (larger) store and overall the entire excursion, plus lunch, took about 4 hours. As I was driving us home, it dawned on me.
In those 4 hours, I really only had to speak to him once, towards the end, at lunch, when he laid down in the booth. Considering he had been the benefactor of my wine-induced stupidity and got to hang with his "girls" until MIDNIGHT, he was tired - so he wasn't really being bad.
I was in awe. Here I had tortured him because, let's face it, I'm not a huge fan of bridesmaid dress shopping, but he's 8 - this was torture for him!! Yet he had been poised, mature, and had listened and been respectful.
My kid. Not my baby. Not my little boy. My kid - who still struggles to behave at times but who, I must admit AND remember, has come a long way.
He's up to my armpit and sports a whole front mouthful of permanent teeth. He's going into 3rd grade and just about polished off his "expected minimum" reading amount for the summer.
Damn. How the hell did I become the mom of a kid?!?!?!
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