Yup. Those words were uttered today. E was “helping” to fold laundry, which for E means taking my underwear and putting it on her head. Sometimes she’ll add a cami, which she likes to sport with one strap draped around her shoulders. Both activities are very helpful.
I should have let her keep rocking the panties.
As E’s mom I have said and done things my younger, pre-mom self would never would have imagined saying or doing.
“We don’t give hugs while we’re on the potty” (I’m hopeful one of these days I’ll go the bathroom alone)
“Please don’t play with the dog’s bum” (the wagging nub of a tail on Meatball is apparently very appealing)
“That’s not your belly button, so you shouldn’t play with it” (one of our many play date faux pas)
“That’s mommy’s special juice”
“Why are you sitting on your baby’s head?” (her baby doll, just to be clear)
And then there’s the “doing” part. Take for example today’s precarious produce mishap (it was a fun filled day). After the panty raid E and I headed over to a friend’s house for a play date, followed by grocery shopping. I lured E away from the play date with the promise of an apple. A lovely, round apple to hold and admire. She has a thing for fruits and vegetables. “Apple” was apparently translated into all items in the produce department. I was able to stop Sticky Fingers E at the Red Bliss potatoes, but lost all control of the situation at the Spaghetti Squash. She grabbed one and a good 5 (or 10) rolled to the floor, and under the display. My train of thought went something like this:
A. Search out a store employee, let them know what happened, and prolong our time in the grocery store, making a for an inevitably disgruntled E by the end of the trip . B. Grab them yourself off the floor, while somehow avoiding E getting out of the cart as ungracefully as possible (she’s a master of buckles, damn all of our fine motor skill building activities, and has no sense of self preservation). C. They’re under the display. A few people saw, but they’ll probably keep quiet. Move on and get out of the store ASAP.
I went with C. Pre-mom Olivia would have been appalled. To redeem myself in my own eyes I did tell the cashier as we were checking out that there may or may not be 10 or so spaghetti squash rolling around the floor of the produce section.
And that’s just today. Let’s not re-hash the past.
I’d love to know I’m not the only one making poor choices based on fearing the wrath of my child. Share yours and I’ll be forever grateful.
xoxoxo – Olivia