9/5/09

The Opposite of OCD

Obsessive Compulsive Disorder is characterized by recurrent and persistent thoughts and feelings and repetitive, ritualized behaviors.
I have the opposite of OCD, I have SRS. Shiny Rock Syndrome. I can't stay focused on anything. Sufferers of SRS feel the need to start and stop multiple activities at once, never completing a task before being distracted by a new one.
While making a pot of coffee this morning I lifted the lid, dumped yesterday's grounds and then suddenly had an urge to empty the dishwasher. I hadn't even finished putting away the silverware when the half inflated pool caught my eye as it lay limply across my lawn. I abandoned my post at the dishwasher and fled into the backyard to deflate the pool. My day continued on like this until I hosted a neighbor and her daughter for a play date. For the first half hour, my SRS kept me from relaxing in the yard and holding a conversation. I was completely preoccupied by the all important distribution of playdough, then plugging in the playhouse lights, pouring a cup of coffee-wait, I never finished making the coffee....
Do all mothers suffer from SRS? Maybe it's just me...

9/2/09

The Many Hats a Mother Wears

I've made a habit of naming and renaming myself depending on the task at hand. I'm sure every schizophrenic does the same. Right now, I'm Mother Cleaver (as in June, for you youngins), and I've tidied up the living room, folded a freshly dried batch of laundry and pulled some warm chocolate chip cookies out of the oven. Did I mention dinner's already finished? Upon sniffing a particularly rank diaper, I don my "Exterminator Cap". If it's misbehaving, on goes the presidential tie as I fold my hands in my "Executive Disciplinarian" role. I've even taken to naming my husband. And it's "I wish the damned plumber would hurry up and fix this" if it's a leaky faucet. Or, if he's mowing the lawn my favorite past time is gawking at the "Hot Gardener" in my yard.
Yesterday, after whipping up a batch of frozen waffles, packing lunches and kissing my kindergartner goodbye, I traded in my tiara and my apron for a feather duster and a head wrap...The House Cleaner had arrived.
This afternoon, my two year old, better known as Teeny Houdini, climbed into her crib (yeah, you heard me, keep reading) and practiced her death defying jump-leaps across the span of a 42 inch mattress.
"Hey, Ana," I mused,"try not to knock all your teeth out."
Obviously, I was not wearing my "Doting Mother" headdress.
And then, the Teeny Houdini (who recently began speaking in complete sentences) paused, turned to meet my indifferent gaze and declared, "I know."
WHERE THE HELL DID THAT COME FROM?
And, which hat do I wear now?????

8/31/09

The Organized Mother

Well, that's definitely not my title. This drummer beats to a more scattered rhythm whose music seems to attract tornadoes in my living room and baskets of explosive Legos. But since my daughter has begun her formal public education, I am trying my best to channel June Cleaver (minus the tacky apron, of course).
I'm getting up before my kids wake me up in the morning, allowing me the chance to shower or work out before I'm on "mommy duty". I'm packing lunches (all of ours) the night before to ease the morning rush.
We're on Day #3 and I'm curious to see how long I can keep this up. Even my house is tidy. Unbelievable.