Today, by 11am, I had already put my head against my husband’s chest and whimpered, “I’m THAT Mom, Lance! I’m thhhhaaaaaaaat Mom.”
Yup. I’m the mom that schedules her son’s neurodevelopmental (it’s really a thing. Not a fun thing. But a thing) appointment at the same time as her daughter’s first “Rhythm, Movement, Dance and Song” group. Except, I didn’t actually know that was the name of the group or where it was exactly. And, apparently, I didn’t know what time it even started.
I’m that mom.
I woke early and desperately tried to get Casey to get ready. He laid naked on the ground for a full ten minutes playing with the cords to the blinds with his toes and harassing Peyton before I started just putting his clothes on for him. As soon as I started, he realized that he was no longer grounded from the Ipad (we’ve had to implement grounding for headlocks, no matter how light hearted they might seem), and took off to find it. This, while the other boys were hounding me for “sports apparel” (THEIR WORDS, even) for a spirit day at school. “Are you kidding me guys? ALL OF YOUR CLOTHES ARE SPORTS CLOTHES!” I finally tackled Casey down on the stairs and got him to cover up his privates. Another ten minutes of him not looking for the Ipad as I chased him around with the rest of his clothes later, he was ready to go. Lance came down to a scene where Abby is crying because she now thinks it’s cool to force me to feed her (aint nobody got time for that!), and I wasn’t and Carter and Peyton are BOTH screaming at each other about the computer because one of them wasn’t stuck breathless in the clamps of a headlock. I might rethink that policy. It brings the noise level WAY down. Casey was bemoaning the fact that I wouldn’t let him take all eight of his Angry Birds to the appointment. Lance tried to sneak up on me as I was angrily slapping peanut butter on bread and in his tiniest, most scared voice said, “Hey…how’s it going?…” then quickly backed away to avoid getting singed when I breathed fire.
No sooner had I gotten Lance and Casey in the car to go to the Children’s Hospital did Lance call me with, “Uhhhhhhhhhmmm, so…..where am I going?”
I finished getting the other boys their sports clothes for spirit whatever and sat down to get Abby to feed herself while I scrolled through my email. Peyton yells to me “Hey, can I get back on the computer? I’m asking because I don’t want you to be cranky with me. You’ve been very cranky this morning.” Ouch. There is a time in every mom’s life when she realizes that her child is right and needs to reevaluate her methods. If I had only been better prepared no one would have gotten yelled at this morning. Things could have gone so much smoother. Realizing this, I pulled Peyton into a warm embrace and apologized to him for my actions earlier and committed to be the kind of mother that doesn’t ever have to yell.
Just kidding. I did nothing of the sort. I’m not THAT Mom. I said, “You’re right Peyton, come closer so I can punch you in the skull.” For a minute, all was silent as we all pecked away at our various devices. Scary Mommy’s book dropped today. I love her and had to shout it to the world…on Facebook. While there, I totally forgot about the TIME and my boys almost missed the bus.
I’m that mom.
I’m not sure any of my boys had breakfast. I just realized that.
As soon as they were off, I ran upstairs to get myself ready for Abby’s toddler group. Realizing that I didn’t have the *time (*read: desire) to shower, I hastily washed my bangs (I’m a genius!) and pulled my hair into a ponytail. I ran downstairs to do the same with Abby’s hair as she sat looking at her bowl of cereal nobody was feeding her. She’s such a freaking princess. She also really hates having her head touched now. I go two ugly pigtails done and threw on her clothes. Realizing I can’t find ANY socks for me, I throw on the first two I grabbed out of our mismatched sock bin and RAN out of the door (just as Jill Smokler on the TV I forgot to turn off says on the Today Show, “we have contributors on Scary Mommy” and I’m all THAT’S ME! I’M FAMOUS! She mentioned ME! because I am, as you well know, a crazy person).
We get to the university and as I’m running into the building I see another mom running in with her daughter, too. I say, “Are you going to the group here? Do you know what group it is? I don’t even know where the hell I’m going.” And she says, “Yeaaaah, today is the last day of our signing group…I don’t think that’s the one you’re going to…” So I, late now, run up to the Early Intervention office and to a very surprised group of therapists and parents I breathlessly say, “Am I in the right place?” Abby’s seemingly always-nervous case worker comes out of her office. I put Abby down and put both hands on my knees as I pant. Two flights of stairs. I’m as out of shape as I look. I stand up straight and without realizing that there’s a small hoard of cute little kids with a variety of disabilities in the room I all too loudly say, “I swear to you, I’m losing my SHIT.” gasp.
Yeah, I’m that mom.
She takes me down to the music room where I’m relieved to find that I’m not late…in fact, we’re the only ones there besides the music teacher. Man! Am I glad that I didn’t blow this off! She would have had no one come! I introduce myself and fall in love with the very artsy lady that runs the group. She’s very direct. “Oh, I thought you were in our 10:30 group.”
I totally was! So now I wasn’t ten minutes late, but an hour and twenty minutes early. Fortunately she took pity on me and let us stay for her 9:30 class, that soon filled with moms and cute little toddlers. The class is a community class that we get to go to for fee because of Abby’s diagnosis. We’re so lucky, huh? The rest of those suckers have to PAY. The moms in the class were super cool, too. And guess what, NOT A SINGLE ONE OF THEM WAS WEARING PANTS. I mean, we weren’t naked, but we all were wearing sweats or yoga pants. My tribe.
I noticed all of them were taking off their shoes. And their kids shoes. It was a shoe free class. I…I had gotten my socks from the missing sock bin. They not only didn’t match, one was my son’s and one was mine. One was pink, one was stained and had grey toes and heels and “PEYTON” written on it. I couldn’t go barefoot either though, because it’s not summer yet and I have not yet taken the time to shave the hair off my toes. There is much hair.
A “Rhythm, Music, Dance and Song” group is just amazing amounts of silly with a toddler that doesn’t hear well and a mom that has no rhythm and is totally tone deaf. Add to it that the room was warm and we were moving A LOT. I was already a sweaty mess from running up and down the stairs (I kid you not) and having to meet new people (the social anxiety disorder makes me sweat…which makes me or anxious…which makes me sweat more…which makes me want to not meet new people ever because I become a gross filter-free sweat monster). I couldn’t take off my sweater because I didn’t want to be the smelly kid in class. Not that I actually would have smelled, they just would have thought that given the massive pit stains on my favorite grey shirt. (Why do I wear grey? That’s the dumbest thing ever)
I am the mom with ugly hair toes, mismatching socks, and pit stains. But my bangs were clean!
Casey’s appointment finished, and they met me at Casey’s school. I had forgotten to send the paperwork with Lance to the appointment, so now I would have to have the school fax it over. Because I’m that mom. Casey actually WENT TO SCHOOL (this is huge…he usually can’t go back if we’ve messed up his schedule at all…but I think going with Dad made it okay so now Lance is going to take him to all of his appointments he ever has). I take Casey to where his class and three others are practicing for their jazz concert. I walk up to his teacher and principal who are talking together just to make sure they know to call me if Casey decided that he couldn’t handle the upset. As I was talking to his super cute and fantastic teacher, Casey reached up and ran his hand over the sparkles on her sports shirt…right over her chest…oh goodness.
Having already said a four letter word in front of a group of children once already that morning, I decided to hightail it out of there. Which is where we began. Me burying my face in my husband’s chest as I said, “I’m THAT mom.” He patted my back and said, “Nah. You’re great. Also, Abby squished the Rice Krispy Treat you gave her in her hair.”
Of course she did. And of course, instead of going home to clean it out, we went out for lunch. Because I’m that mom.
29 thoughts on “I’m THAT Mom!”
I think at some point in our “mum life” we all become THAT MOM! I used to love the toddler classes with my daughter. James, well not so much! PEACE
Ohh lexi, your an awesome mom:)
Don’t worry so much! We love you and your doing a great job!
I have been THAT mom on several occasions.
“on several occasions”? TRY HARDER! I’m that mom on every occasion.
Loved loved loved this post! You, my friend, are a ray of sunshine. Wish I could write like you and find the funny in every situation.
“sunshine” isn’t the word I’d use to describe me. Sunshine is a disinfectant…and there is very little of that in my life.
Thank you though!
hahaha! Well thank you for keeping it real and entertaining the rest of us in the process.
Not addled. Come up with a better word.
“I think going with Dad made it okay so now Lance is going to take him to all of his appointments he ever has”
Does Lance know this? 😉 Always good to know I am not the only Mommy who does this stuff.
He does now. Crap. Why did I tell him to read this post?!
I . . . love . . . you. And envy you BIG TIME. I’ve got a Triple Threat on my hands (a son with Ds, autism, and ADHD), and when I started writing honestly about our life on Fb I had a mom (who has a son with Ds and autism) report me to DCF. Oh, and she had her friends report me too. So when I read your posts I feel like I’m reading exerpts from my own life; stuff I would write about, but can’t . . . without having a government agency at my doorstep. KEEP TELLIN’ IT LIKE IT IS!!! Life is messy, and life with kids who have special needs can be even messier. Those who believe otherwise are in a deep state of denial! Thank you SO much for your posts. 🙂
Oh, I’m not sure they aren’t going to show up. I should probably clean something.
Also, it helps, I think, that we move once a year. Stay ahead of “the man.”
Hmmmm, never thought of that. Wise, very wise . . . 😉
HILARIOUS! And I relate. I suck at scheduling!
i’m no expert, but you sound ok to me.
Will you be available in case there’s some sort of legal proceeding? I might need character witnesses.
I kind of like THAT mom 😉
This is hilarious. Can we talk about how I was “THAT mom” last summer when I SLEPT THROUGH my daughter’s early Kindergarten screening? I actually cried hard about it. We did reschedule but man did I feel like a moron. Yay for depression.
Can I tell you about the time I was running
Late forSam’s speech eval at
Day care, decided “screw it I’m already late, I’m showering first,” and the they rang the doorbell at
My home while I was in the shower. I shut the water off, dropped about seven f bombs, ran to my room (they rang the bell again, a few more f bombs) and threw
On the first yoga pants I could find and a fleece (no bra…score one for the IBT committee!!) to answer the door with soaking wet hair?
I guess deciding to shower is what got me totally derailed, right?
We are all that mom, Lexi. Only some of us own it.
I’ve done one of Abby’s therapy appointments without underwear on for the same reason. I swear I was like, “The one damn day I decide to shower and this happens!” and it totally reinforced my never wanting to shower.
Okay here’s the thing, I think we are all THAT MOM when we’re honest about it. All those people put-together moms who keep it all running and in control? Those are the weird ones, the infiltrators, the ones that aren’t really Moms at all – they’re just paid doubles for the “That Mom.” The only thing is I can’t seem to find my own double so everyone sees me as That Mom instead of perfect mom double. I guess you misplaced yours too 🙂
And, you are my new best friend just because of the whole sweating thing – yep, that is also a big That Mom issue over here for similar reasons, not to mention plain ol’ genetics. I can’t believe it’s taken me this long to find you. Love your stuff!
But now that we’ve found each other, we can have a Sweat Off! I’ve always wanted a friend who sweats as much as me. It’s a talent, really, and I’d love to prove that I’m the sweatiest girl in the world.
Stop spying on my life and then blogging about it!;)
So you’re saying you want us to take our relationship to the next level? Fantastic, I’ll start throwing rocks at your window.
Thank goodness there is someone else with hairy toes!!!! I love reading your blogs because of your blunt honesty…it’s a talent! and I really detest those “perfect” moms….Wish they made clones of you…
That’s actually what that thing on my neck that isn’t cancer is. I’m growing a clone army. Not really a clone army though, because that idea didn’t turn out well in the end. More like a regime. But I won’t point nukes at South Korea.
“Gross, filter-free sweat monster”. I am SO feeling this description! I have S.A.D. too (coupled with Performance Anxiety) so the fact that I EVER make it out of my house is astounding to me in a daily basis.
You are a fabulous writer and I look forward to reading (and relating to) more of your work!