So... what kind of mom am I?

Come love your mother!

Leaving the rink today, there were two moms there who brought their kids to terrorize the adult skaters on open skate with their hockey shit. You know the kind: fake highlights, ponytail pulled through the back of a baseball cap, puffy vests making their seasonal return. 

I am also horrified by the Karens. You know the kind: the razor cut, pursed lips, always suitably outraged about something or other. 

I also dislike the skate mom, the helicopter parent, the scammer, the high maintenance partier past her expiration date, and the checked-out mom who pays no attention to their kids being terrors in public. 

So I guess I know what kind of mom I am. The judgmental bitch.

I wonder why it matters so much that I balance my rep as a mom with society. That I shower him with  almost everything he wants, but don't spoil him. That I protect him but not insulate him. Raise him in our shadow but let him be his own person. 

So I guess in addition to judging these other moms, I'm judging myself too. He's to the stage where he resists the affection I want to heap on him, but will grab my hand and kiss it. I think he's trying to balance between being a kid and a teenager as well. 

Thoughts in the Drop Off Lane

Will missed the bus today. 

It was a harried morning, as he frantically looked for his phone while heeding the directive from his dad to take the trash down to the curb. He also said the bus driver had been picking him up earlier and earlier each morning, so if he wasn't on time, he was late. 

He came banging back into the house, angry and fearful that I would be angry as well. 

On the contrary, I was delighted. 

The bus stop ritual started as early as preschool, when I had to be at the bus stop for pickup, then I would go work out at the Y or do a coffee run until his bus dropped him back home a few hours later. The morning ritual continued until 4th grade, when I had to drop him off mornings because his pickup time was well after I had to be at work. I liked it because it gave me a little more time with him every day. 

Fifth grade into sixth, his bus time was such that he either left the house before me or at the same time. And because he was growing up, the morning kiss turned into shouting "bye mom!" as he walked out the door. 

As he hung his head, anticipating a lecture, I said I could be ready quickly, and brushed my teeth, fluffed my hair, and was ready to go in less than five. Cautious, he mumbled "I guess there's a life lesson in this somehow." Doing the parenting thing, we talked about priorities in the morning and he probably shouldn't have wasted time looking for his phone but he will know for next time. And, this meant I could get Starbucks. 

I don't really know what else we talked about on the way to his middle school, maybe about what parking lot I needed to go to for the drop off lot. I remarked about the kids ahead of us looking like they were 8th graders. What coffee I was going to get, or maybe a pink drink. 

At the drop, instead of a "bye mom, " I got a quick kiss from my kid whose day went from bad to ok. As I went to pick up the Salted Caramel Cold Foam Cold Brew (say that three times real fast), my heart was ready to burst with the randomness of what was a perfectly lovely start to my day and the sheer force of my love for this kid. 

So he missed the bus. The opportunity for me to drop him off at school is closing; by time he is a sophomore, he will be driving himself around the corner and skipping the bus entirely. I hope he misses the bus a few more times so I can get my few extra minutes with my lovely man-child.

Use Your Talents

 Remember her? I do. 

So class three in my quest for earning my GVSU Leadership certificate is in its second week, which means I'm already a third of the way there. I have a major paper due on the 18th - doesn't he know that's birthfest?!

Anyway, the flipgrid assignment was to discuss skill sharing. Immediately my bashful insecurities arose, making me think "what do I have to offer?" Then I remembered Liquid Gold. 

Man, I got a grant to paint it, and it was to advocate for healthy mamas and babies in Kent County. I took a meeting at 1 in the morning in a gay bar with a transgendered bartender after leaving my second shift at the hospital. It had a second life at a foam party for breast cancer research. And I'm still jazzed about how the curls turned out. 

So I touted my skills as an artist as well as a writer. This made me think of all the press releases I've written on behalf of young dudes taking parenting class, or the ads I wrote so Croatian kids were able to attend a baseball game for the first time in their new home country. Supporting the farm that created a petting zoo for special needs kids. Promoting research and continuing education for those who care for dementia patients. And informing a kid from Texas that he can improve his community by coming here to study aquatic sciences. 

If I have to give myself a holla, it's been a wonderful career so far.