Motherhood Stage 3: A bag full of socks and cookies

I went to Target last night. I told myself it was for “essentials,” but you and I both know better. I had a tip that the Dollar Spot was chock full of slipper socks. If you know me, you know I live for the Dollar Spot. If you know my kids, you know they have an unnatural obsession with slipper socks. Moreover, my house is the upside down of slipper socks; they go missing here faster than you can say Barbara.

Imagine my surprise when I got there and learned that the aforementioned Dollar Spot slipper socks were on CLEARANCE. I didn’t even know such a thing could exist. Here were my precious babies’ favorite footwear for less than a dollar! I hunkered down and bought all the colors, as well as regular socks (and a lone pair of gloves). I plunked down my sock bounty as well as a healthy variety of cookies and chatted with the Target team member checking me out. I proudly proclaimed, “It’s a good day. I’ve got a bag full of socks and cookies.” We laughed. We bonded.

And then it hit me.

A bag full of socks and cookies is now my present parenting stage. It’s where we are, and who we are.

We’ve traveled successfully through Stage 1: Copious amount of feces and spit up, or infancy. During this stage I spent mass amount of time covered in/face to face with someone’s feces or spit up. I spent a good deal of my time talking with ANYONE AND EVERYONE about feces and spit up. I was too f’ing tired to be embarrassed.

We blissfully sailed into Stage 2: You do cute stuff and irrational tantrum stage, or toddlerhood. It was great at the start, or when everything they did was cute (actually, it was great simply because I wasn’t covered in anything anymore), and ended on kind of a rocky note with all.the.tantrums. I’m still rounding out this one with #2, but I see the light ahead of me.

I’m solidly in Stage 3: A bag full of socks and cookies, or preschool age with my oldest. We are busy people, constantly needing to be somewhere on time (though, I stood firm on only 4 days of preschool because he’s got his WHOLE LIFE to be busy). I’m perpetually shouting to “Put on your dang socks and let’s go!” Remember that unnatural love for slipper socks I mentioned? He lives in them and will not put shoes on until the actual last second we walk out the door. Oh, and he’s the slowest person alive. We are often late. I may or may not occasionally bribe him with cookies. And, I may or may not desperately shove handfuls of cookies in my mouth as they nap…or when they go to bed…or just because it is Tuesday. So, my life basically boils down to a socks and cookies. And, I’m very happy to be here.

While this stage is a bit maddening, I’m in no hurry to run ahead. I’m not ready for fart jokes and eye rolls yet. Or, jock straps and report cards. Or, girlfriends and licenses. We’ll get there in due time. For now, I’ll just stay here, right where I belong. I’ll keep stocking up on socks and cookies and I know we will get through it all.

P.S. If you are keeping tabs on my NaBloPost progress, this is post #4. I will write, but not post over the weekend. I’m pretty sure that is breaking some kind of rule, but I’m okay with it. Weekends are for defragging and family, and I hope you enjoy yours as I’ll enjoy mine. I’ll be back in your head soon enough!

socks

We’ve got socks for days!

Here’s the target haul, yo (sans cookies!). Less than $10!
Related posts:
4 tips for the boy mom

Why we spend so much time outside

Enjoying letting go (just a little)

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