It is past midnight right now...waay past my bedtime.
I'm just laying in bed, facebook and Twitter have me wishing I would have gone to the Guns N' Roses concert in Indy and generally not keeping me as entertained as I would like.
My mind is spinning.
It spins to dinner tonight, where Sam leaned over to me and hugged me and said, "Mom, you're my best friend." I don't know where that came from, but I liked it.
And then my mind spun to my post from the other day, where I talked about how my kids are the greatest bestest most stupendest in the world.
And I got to thinking, "Geez Gail, I really hope that no one thinks you an asshole for writing that. Like, your kids are better than other people's kids, for reals."
So I just had to write this and say, Look. I hope you know that I know that all of you moms out there think the exact same thing about your kids than I do about my kids. And, for that matter, all you dog moms think the exact same thing about your dog versus other people's dogs.
Basically, I don't want you to think I am an asshole.
Which is kind of funny, because the whole reason I wrote that post is because I am often afraid I come off as an asshole about my kids in real life.
If you ever see me IRL, and ask me about the girls, I will probably sigh, roll my eyes, and say something to the effect that they drive me to drink. (Which is actually not really true, I have never once joined the #wineparty on Twitter.) I then will tell some terrible story about how Sam pushed Charlie off of a chair. Or how proud I am that Charlie is now starting to fight back.
I tell stories about times like tonight, I was Skyping with K, and realized Charlie was just being a tad too quiet. And how I turned around, and she had oh-so-carefully climbed from the floor onto the ottoman onto the couch, and had gingerly climbed onto the glass coffee table and was preparing to stand and fist pump the air like she was King of the Mountain. I *rushed* to get her down so she didn't fall and split her head open, because I was really not in the mood for our first ever ER visit tonight.
I am afraid that I make it seem like I am not very concerned with my children's well-being, or that they are a thorn in my side, all of this responsibility. And, just to be clear, THAT COULD NOT BE FURTHER FROM THE TRUTH. I hope that my sarcasm comes across in real life, just like I hope it comes across on my blog. THAT is why I wrote that last post. So when/if my kids grow up and read this blog and they are talking to their therapist and saying how I never talked to the strangers on the internet about how I loved them, there was one clear post about how I felt about my girls.
Sometimes I wonder if people who know me IRL doubt my mothering instinct, since I seem to be such a lax parent, I want them to know that I DO care. (I also have this thing in my head that bad things don't happen to me or my family, even though bad things continually happen.) I just can't fathom a devastating illness, a horrible car crash, or a terrible accident happening to me. To my kids. So I may allow my kids a bit more freedom that others. And that is OK, to each his own. I just want people to understand. Or at least know the most important thing...I really do LIKE my kids. And love them. So there.
But, just so I am clear, they are really cute and adorable and awesome and generally, sort of, well-behaved (in public) (most of the time). They drive me nuts, force me to take more deep breaths in one day than in an entire lifetime before they came along, and can make me forget with one look that there are other people in a room. I guess that is what kids do to you. Damn kids.