Lately I feel like my life could be summed up in a Venn diagram, with the two sides being "Things I do because I am cheap" (shop at the slightly sketchy grocery stores) and "Things I do because I am lazy" (hate pants). And most of my mothering decisions would fit neatly in the intersection.
"Things I do because I am both cheap and lazy":
*Cloth diaper. Diapers are expensive, yo. I do use disposables when we go on trips or to the respective grandparents' homes because it's easier (see: "lazy") but I wince whenever I ring up. Even the Target cheapies are about $8 for the small bag. That's a lot of produce at the sketchy grocery store! Also, I am too lazy to be willing to run into Target with all three kids and knowing me (third life subset: "forgetful") that would happen every third day, somehow.
*Breastfeeding. Formula is even more expensive. And thanks to the drug dealers who have figured out Enfamil is the perfect thing with which to cut their cocaine, you also have to wait in line at Customer Service at some stores around here to purchase it. Yes, I know nursing has health benefits and those are important to me, but I'm three kids in and if someone were delivering it for free and washing the bottles afterwards, I have a feeling it would be an entirely different story.
*Ignore the walls. Yesterday I wrote about CrayonGate, or Why My Children Are Bereft of Crafts Outside of Art Class. Therefore, there is a buildup of crayon and pencil marks on the walls. The washable stuff comes right off and I've mostly made the kids take care of that in hopes they will stop sneaking off and coloring. But pencil? Pencil does not come off paint by using the pencil's eraser (useless thing!) and is immune to Magic Eraser. I know! What do I want to do even less than go to Target with all the kids? Go to Sherman Williams and try to remember what shade I used in the hallway and then shell out for some more paint. So the next time you stop by, please feel free to appreciate the modern art mural I have going on.
Today Mary and Anna were playing "mommy and baby." Anna was the mommy and I was pleased to note that her interpretation of Mommy did not involve many doors slamming or references to drinking before lunchtime. Nor did the desire for Valium come up. She did say that as a mommy her job was to "talk and talk" but she wasn't trying to surgically attach my phone to her hand, so overall, I'd say I'm not damaging them too badly.
Mary was the baby and when she is "baby Mary" she likes to sit on my lap and hear stories of when she was actually tiny.
"When Baby Mary went to New Hampshire," I began, as vacations are a popular topic with her, "She climbed all the stairs and laughed when Daddy would chase her."
"She loved to eat scrambled eggs." Another smile.
"And what else?" I paused. Bad Mommy On My Shoulder resurfaced.
"She loved to go and clean her room all the time!" Mary eyed me.
"How did I do that?"
"You'd just go right in there and clean it all up! You love to clean!"
"How did baby Mary clean her room?"
"She just DID! She DID!"
Reverse psychology fail. Mary eyed me again and wandered away, willing to break character by walking more than she was willing to clean under the bed.
Okay, maybe I'm damaging them a little bit.