Not Quite Like Wine

I kind of thought that my mothering skills would progress like wine; they'd get better with age.  I'm pretty sure that didn't happen.

I don't think I've gotten worse, either.  Just... different.

Dylan has been grouchy for days.  Lots of days.  With a slight stuffiness, I figured he was just in the beginning stages of a cold.  But it never came.  I talked to Kirk about it yesterday as I once again gave Dylan pain medication for a pain I couldn't identify.

"I wonder if those molars he's getting are hurting him?" Kirk asked.

Duh.  Molars!  Yeah, he's getting some of those.  And that would sure explain his sad, "Ouch," the bit of stuffiness, and the figurative eggshells I've had to carefully navigate to keep him from melting into a puddle of tears at any given moment.

Had it been Adam, I'd have known to watch for molars, because the daily email to which I had subscribed would have told me to expect them.  They'd have been on my radar at least.

Had it been Alex, I'd still have possessed the memory to recall teething from when Adam did it.  Plus I was around him all. the. time.  The grouchiness alone would have prompted me to research a cause.

But as Kirk and I did our December 21st Christmas shopping spree, and I came to the realization that sewing a church bag for Dylan (to match the ones I made for the boys back in 2009) just wasn't going to happen, I had to admit something a bit painful.

I'm not that mom.

I used to be.  I have the blog pictures to prove it.  But I'm not now, and guess what?  That's okay.

There is no mother-making cookie cutter; there is no right way.  I've tried on a few.  I did working-full-time mom when Adam was born.  I've done part-time a lot.  I've done full-on stay-at-home (that's when I made the bags).  Now I seem to have found some sort of work-part-time, get-a-degree, maintain-hobbies-and-friendships craziness that keeps me running from thing to thing.  I'll probably try on a few more as we progress through life.  I've yet to do soccer-mom (or football-mom as the case may soon be).  I'll always struggle with rock-the-kids-to-sleep mom (I just can't hold still long enough).

No, my mothering skills are no fine wine.  But I'm proud to declare myself a Twinkie.  Consistently good and practically indestructible.