Huh? Wha?

I know I sound like I've been a bit obsessed with getting old lately, but here's yet another proof: All day I've been wandering around thinking of ten different things I've been wanting to write about. All day I've been staring longingly at my laptop as it broadcasts hours and hours of Diego, all the while winking at me mockingly, just out of reach.  


And now, finally it's quiet, laptop is in hand (or on lap rather) and I can't remember a DARN thing I wanted to write about! Aargh Blargh!! as we say here in W-land.


I guess one thing I've been thinking a lot about lately is how sometimes I feel like I am an excellent mother; I have it all together, I know my kids well and can reach each of them on their own level in ways to help them grow as people, as Jews and as mentchen. Sometimes. 


The other 97% of the time I have started to feel totally clueless. As in, I have NO stinking IDEA what I'm doing.  Sometimes I'll post an exasperated post on FB partially to kvetch, partially to get advice, but mostly to just get some much needed sympathy.


Today's post of "Once again feeling like I need parenting lessons" had a bunch of great mothers contributing. Some very seriously, some lending a much needed laugh, but all in it together. That's exactly what I love about FaceBook. (It's networking...socially...ah! I get it!)


And together we reached a very clear understanding: this is really how it's supposed to be. As soon as we feel too much in control or want to give ourselves a big pat on the back (and we should!), we get small loving reminders that yes, we are doing a fantastic job, but we still need the Big Guy's help, and we shouldn't ever stop looking or asking for it. 


So thanks to my FB friends for making me laugh and helping me realize that I'm not incompetent or crazy, or G-d forbid old. Well, maybe a little. Now seriously, what was it I was supposed to be writing about anyway?

A MoG, too

You know by now that I truly relish my role as a Mother of Boys in every respect; the chaos, the rowdiness, the pandemonium that comes with raising the men of the future. I can joke about it, and laugh about it, but that's only because I have a secret weapon, a key that keeps me sane through it all. And that key is my one and only daughter.

She doesn't get the spotlight too much in my blog because, she can use the bathroom (albeit for a ridiculously long amount of time in the morning) and leave it clean. She is also rarely (although not never) featured in the living room pile-ups. But mostly I don't write about her because she once said to me, "What?? Now everything I say goes in your blog?!" So I've tried to protect that pre-teen privacy which is held so dear.

But tonight her and I had a moment. She wasn't aware of the moment, but I sure was.

J was getting ready for her first friend's Bat Mitzva. I've been in bed for almost three days with a flu, but I forced myself upright for the first time in 48 hours to help her blow dry her hair ("It's too poofy! It's too straight! It's not straight enough!"). And as I sat with her for those brief few minutes during her transformation from young school girl to beautiful young lady I was struck with not only her outer beauty and grace but by her inner beauty as well.

Sometimes we get a brief glimpse into the future of what our children will look like as adults, and who they will become. And at that moment I realized that it's not so far in the "future" when our children will become the adults we hope and pray that they will be.

And if we're doing a half decent job, some of them are already most of the way there.