That Sweet Little Moment of Parenting

Sometimes it is hard to justify the stay at home mom thing to yourself. Your kids get older, they get bigger. They give up the breast; they eat real food. They long for playing with people the same size as they are, or close to it.

It is about this time that a formerly employed stay at home mom might say " they don't really NEED me anymore." And they don't. Maybe they can use the toilet now, or pour their own drink. Maybe they can tell you that they did a "job" and lay down to be changed. They can tell you what they want! And oh what a joy that is, to not have to guess any longer what it is they want.

But those big boys? Going to the potty and trying to pour their own drinks?

They get jealous.

Baby brother always sits with you. I want to sit with you too! You end up crammed into a small recliner, a preschooler snoring into to your shoulder, and a toddler, conked out on your lap with his blankie.

Getting up to pee stopped being an option an hour ago, so I hope your bladder is up for it!

It is good to be needed. I am the necessary component for any Curious George viewing on PBS to be enjoyable. Learning math and science via George just is better if Mom is coaxing you along, and keeping you warm.

I somehow make it applicable, and the boys don't even know the word.

My lap is full, and my schedule at 3:30 is booked for Curious Geoge. Oh, who am I kidding? We watch it at 8 AM too, but at that point Mommy is clutching her coffee cup and hoping that by this afternoon I can make it all makes sense.

By then we will be noshing on some homemade cookies, drinking some juice, and talking about how silly George is because "monkeys can't do that."

Then my lap is empty again. My usefullness is gone for another day, until someone gets an owie.

Then I am the drink and meal provider, the negotiator and tush wiper. But for that brief time every day, I am their conductor on the train of learning.

For an hour a day, I get to be their educated peer, sharing in the adventures of George, and relating them.

Until that magic day when the weight of their heads become too much, and they conk out.

And they are sleeping. On you.