Black sock, blue sock, at least there were two socks...

I always throw a pair of ankle socks under my knee-high boots (you will forever picture this now when you see me wearing my boots).  It usually doesn't matter if the socks match since they are obviously hidden.  However, the other day I wore my boots to someone's house and had to take them off when I walked in the door.  I had worn two different socks...one black and one blue (light blue so I couldn't even get away with it by using the "I thought that the navy was black" defense).  Before I had kids I would have been mortified by this.  However, this time I didn't even realize that I had done it until my friend commented on it.  And even then I just thought to myself, "Well, at least I wore two socks"!

Since I have had kids I pay much less attention to the details.  I have to!  There just isn’t enough time in a day and something has to give.  As a result, I don’t even notice things like if my socks match, if the girls’ socks match, if they are wearing socks...  You get the drift.  In fact, I consider it a successful morning if no one walks out of the house naked (and I am even pretty flexible on that point provided it is warm outside).  Being a parent has forced me to take the thousand-story view.  I am notorious for sweating the small stuff and worrying about every little detail.  So, the fact that something (i.e., lack of time and energy) has forced me to take a step back and stop focusing on the minutiae of life is only a good thing...right!?!   

Prior to having the girls, there were a lot of things that I KNEW I was going to do as a parent.  My friends who were already parents tried to warn me that I could not predict what was to come.  They were sure that once the baby arrived my views would change.  I was sure that they were crazy and that I was obviously more dedicated to this parenting thing than they were.  Well, guess who is eating her words now?  Yep, that’s me.  I somehow went from the pre-baby mom who made an appointment at the police station to get my car seat installed to the post-baby mom that is pretty sure that I installed the seats correctly (hey, at least I have them in their seats…there are some days that I don’t feel like listening to them fight over who gets which seat and I am tempted to throw them in the way back).  I went from the pre-baby mom who sterilized everything to the post-baby mom who is usually picking Soph’s pacifier up off of the ground at the grocery store and applying the five second rule (that is the rule where you take any amount of time that the pacifier was on the floor and assume that it is five seconds short of the time when germs and other bacteria would have adhered to it).    I went from the pre-baby mom who swore I would never let my kids look like ragamuffins to the post-baby mom let’s her two-year old dress herself and actually loves it when she struts in to the kitchen wearing a princess costume, a GAP sweatshirt, a bunch of plastic necklaces, and a Little Mermaid pocketbook. 

When I think back to the person that I was pre-baby (or pre-babies) I realize now that I had no idea what it meant to be a parent.  Even as I write this post I have to smile at my warped expectations.  I wanted everything to be perfect and clean and everyone to be behaved and happy.  That is so not life!  But what I have learned is that there is so little that really matters when it comes to raising kids.  I believe that my job as a parent is to give my kids the tools that they need to feel good about themselves and to find happiness in their own lives.  And nowhere in that description does it say that my job as a parent is to make sure that every little detail is perfect.  So when I start to get worked up about stupid things there are a few questions that I ask myself so I can refocus.  Are the healthy?  Amazing!  Are they happy (and I mean long-term kind of happy...if they are not happy because you said no that doesn't count)?  Even more amazing!   Do they make my life better and more fulfilling?  If you didn't immediately say no to that question, you're good.   Do they sometimes escape after daddy has given them a tub and pee in a random place in the house?  Ugh…ok, that isn’t one of my standard questions that actually just happened.  Oh well, such is my life!  

Until next time…