Until now, we've skipped that phase of parenting where you pick up and drop off the young teenager who's your regular Saturday night sitter. I remember those days. They weren't that long ago, were they? You remember them too, right?
Well, I can't say that we've entered into this phase as a family, but I did offer to pick up and drop off the sitter for our Community Group. A valiant gesture on my part. But I didn't realize that when the offer was made and accepted it placed me into the role of being 'That Mom.'
So, as we're packing up Sunday night following Community Groups, I do the whole scene where I'll strap Aiden in (mind you, he's wired at this point having been pumped with 100% juice and cookies), mindlessly walk around, put my stuff in the back since the sitter is sitting up front with me. Sit, buckle, and … no keys. Ahhh, I've left them in my purse. Jump out to retrieve them from the back seat.
It's at this point that the chatty sitter feels the need to share how her own mom forgets her keys as well. Sometimes she'll be holding them in her own hand asking if someone has seen her keys. I'm thinking... Yeah so, who hasn’t done that (apparently a very mom-ish thought I soon discover).
It's a simple effort to make conversation, deep down in my heart I know this is true. But on the surface, it hits me. In my mind, she is me. Just a few short years ago, I was sitting there in her spot. I’m not much older than that - so we’re equals in my book.
But to her, I am HER mother. I'm no longer the kid sitting on a Sunday night, I'm the responsible party (use that term as you will...). Do you see? It's an assumption that all moms lose their keys (however true this may be...). To me it's an awaking, another sign that again I am (or am suppose to be) the adult, doing adult things, forgetting in the adult ways. Oh the terror.
If I am ‘The Adult’ / ‘That Mom,’ then why does it feel like I am still playing house sometimes (and not in that good way like the first time your parents are brave enough to leave you home alone)? When does this go away? Only when I accept it? Or does this wear into us until it becomes apart of us, ingrained in us? How long does that take?
Well, I can't say that we've entered into this phase as a family, but I did offer to pick up and drop off the sitter for our Community Group. A valiant gesture on my part. But I didn't realize that when the offer was made and accepted it placed me into the role of being 'That Mom.'
So, as we're packing up Sunday night following Community Groups, I do the whole scene where I'll strap Aiden in (mind you, he's wired at this point having been pumped with 100% juice and cookies), mindlessly walk around, put my stuff in the back since the sitter is sitting up front with me. Sit, buckle, and … no keys. Ahhh, I've left them in my purse. Jump out to retrieve them from the back seat.
It's at this point that the chatty sitter feels the need to share how her own mom forgets her keys as well. Sometimes she'll be holding them in her own hand asking if someone has seen her keys. I'm thinking... Yeah so, who hasn’t done that (apparently a very mom-ish thought I soon discover).
It's a simple effort to make conversation, deep down in my heart I know this is true. But on the surface, it hits me. In my mind, she is me. Just a few short years ago, I was sitting there in her spot. I’m not much older than that - so we’re equals in my book.
But to her, I am HER mother. I'm no longer the kid sitting on a Sunday night, I'm the responsible party (use that term as you will...). Do you see? It's an assumption that all moms lose their keys (however true this may be...). To me it's an awaking, another sign that again I am (or am suppose to be) the adult, doing adult things, forgetting in the adult ways. Oh the terror.
If I am ‘The Adult’ / ‘That Mom,’ then why does it feel like I am still playing house sometimes (and not in that good way like the first time your parents are brave enough to leave you home alone)? When does this go away? Only when I accept it? Or does this wear into us until it becomes apart of us, ingrained in us? How long does that take?
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