Mom of the Year

I am going to give myself an award. Many of you think you deserve this award, but I assure you – it is mine.

I get the Bad Mom Award.

It all started seven years ago when I got a nursing degree. I am very compassionate with anyone outside of my family, but within the family, I think it is whispered behind my back that I am a bit of a Nurse Ratched (imagine that!). When I got the nursing degree, I began to think that I knew what I was doing. When I tell my husband when he has a fever, “You're not sick. Get up and caulk that bathroom,” I feel that since I have that RN behind my name, I know what's going on. Perhaps not.

It was a year ago that my son got slammed into a wall while playing indoor soccer. He's young. He's flexible. When he started complaining that his back hurt, I raised an eyebrow and gave him an ice pack. A few months later, I took him to the chiropractor. It helped, but the pain came back. I figured that the kid had never had aches and pains – he just hadn't learned to ignore it. Another month of ice and Advil, and I said, “Okay. I'll get it x-rayed.” I said this begrudgingly, which I am truly sad to admit.

It turned out that the poor boy had a bi-lateral stress fracture of his vertebrae. Bad Mom Award.

Then there was the time my daughter said that she had an upset stomach before going to school. “You're just tired,” the Mom of the Year said. “Brush your teeth.” After which, the girl proceeded to throw up her entire breakfast (and probably the previous night's dinner) in the sink. Again, Bad Mom Award.

And then this week. My daughter had missed gymnastics last week for a stomach ache. I had been lax. I had given in easily and allowed her to miss without so much as a temperature check. So, when she met me after school this week and said that her stomach hurt again on a gymnastics day, my head spun around a couple of times and I said, “You're not sick. You're just tired.” Hm, I sense a pattern here.

She replied with tears and a loud voice saying, “Mom! I'm really sick! Why don't you believe me?”

My answer was, of course, “Quit yelling.” I still didn't believe her.

We made it to the car and I gave in to her squalls by dropping by our house instead of going straight to the gym. “Just take my temperature!” she wailed.

I bared my teeth at the poor child and said, “Okay, fine. But if you don't have a fever, you are going.”

She did not have a fever. I said, “Get dressed. We're going,” which set off another round of “Mom! I'm really sick!”

I narrowed my eyes and said, “Okay. You stay home, but you are not moving off of that couch. No TV. No iPod.”

The girl slept for two hours. She really was sick. Bad Mom Award.

So don't feel bad. You are a good mom. You just might want to avoid my house if you're ever feeling sick. I might make you go caulk the bathroom.

Wanderlust

I want to travel. I have a burning passion to see and experience as much of the world (and beyond) as I can. If Star Trek became reality, I would be at the front of the line to go.

My sons say, “Then just go.” I would love to, but I’m just not that selfish, surprisingly. I will give up my trip to Italy this year to pay my sons’ college tuition.

But that doesn't mean that I’m giving up on traveling…

I am blessed to live in a culturally abundant area. I traveled to India today as a matter of fact. I went to the Indian market. I ate the tikka masala with the fingers of my right hand and immersed myself in the smells of curry and cardamom. I struck up a conversation with the store clerk. I entered a world where I was the only one with blue eyes and where English was the exception, not the rule.

I love going to Sweden. When the electric doors of IKEA open, the smells of lingonberries and Swedish meatballs tickle my senses. The neatly arranged room-boxes and modern light fixtures with names like “Söderhamn” and “Magnarp” make me feel like I should go bleach my hair and eat some gravlax.

A few weeks ago, I went to Korea (North or South – doesn’t matter, I’m safe). .

I ate my bulgogi from my lunch box plate with chopsticks, heady with the slight scariness of not knowing exactly what I had ordered at Chang Jing restaurant, and of hearing only Korean spoken at all of the tables around me.

When I go to China, I am amazed at all of the live seafood and the fruits and vegetables that I’ve never seen before. I brought fresh juji fruit home(and you thought it was just a candy) from the Ranch 99 Chinese market the other day. I had to google how to eat the things. The last time I went there, I had to find an Asian teenager who spoke English to tell me how to buy the pastries (it’s more complicated than you would think). It was scary. Awesome.

Mexico is easy. I actually speak some Spanish. There are so many Mexican grocery stores and restaurants around here that I actually feel somewhat comfortable there. I went to La Michoacana this week. I was the only white person there. :)

Sometimes, I don’t have to actually go anywhere at all to travel. My son’s piano teacher’s wife is from Taiwan. She taught me some Chinese, fed me Taiwanese food, and showed me pictures of her beautiful country. Ni hao. And I’ve been to Russia.

When we remodeled our bathroom, the owner of the remodeling company was from Russia. I probably surprised him when I popped into the bathroom and said, “I want to learn to speak Russian.” But he humored me and I took a small trip to the Motherland.

No, I haven’t set foot in China, Korea, or Russia. Not yet, at least. And Antarctica is still calling to me. I’ll get there when the time is right. For now, I may not be seeing the buildings and northern lights, but I am meeting the people who are from the places I want to go. It’s good. When I travel, I like meeting the people and plunging myself into the different cultures most of all anyway. I’m going to make a call to my Mary Kay lady now – she’s from Germany…