The Loving and Serious One

Is it okay that I am truly and deeply hurt by being the loving and serious parent? Apparently it's a compliment. Even the fun loving and preferred parent says it's a compliment (of course he does he's the fun loving one).

Colleagues talk about how when the kids are adults it is the loving and serious parent that raised them to be good ones. Blech. My kids are great kids, but they don't enjoy time with me so when they are great adults and hanging out with their fun loving dad I am sure I'll still think it sucks to be the loving and serious one.

I am done being the parent that gets up at 5 so I can pack their lunches and feed their animals and clean their cat's litter box before going to work. I am done being the parent that comes home and makes them do their chores and their homework. Their dad gets to hang out with them in the morning and by the time he comes home their chores and homework are usually done if not in the midst of completion--he never has to hound them to do the "not so fun part of being alive" (other than going to school, but at least he gets some quality one on one time with each of them as he does that).

I am done being the parent that watches the clock to tell them it's time to get off of the computer, time to get ready for bed, time to go to bed...

I am done being the parent that works all day, goes to school at night then comes home at 10 to find out they didn't feed the animals like they are supposed to because I wasn't there to make them do it.

I am done not knowing the answer to, "well, what DO you like to do in your free time..."

I swear I used to know, I used to be someone who was loving AND fun (and, sadly probably also a wee bit serious).

Mishya Takes Trimet: A Blog Post in Texts and Phone Calls

This is a double post, if you are (un)lucky enough to follow multiple blogs I apologize for the sense of "I've already read that, haven't I??" you are experiencing right now.
That said, this fits way too well in both my Clumsy Life and the lives of Keeton and Mishya--well just Mishya, but they don't have their own blogs, I'm overwhelmed with 4 and can't take on a 5th. Although in an interview yesterday it was suggested I start journaling...But I digress.

A brief background:
Keeton out of town.  Mishya in town.  Ask friend to have son ride bus with Mishya to make sure she gets home.  Day 1--smooth. Day 2--reason for this blog post.

3:00 I'm at work 18 miles away from Mishya who should be getting on public transportation with my friend's son, G, in the 'hood if you know what I mean...Josh is on the mountain far far away, skiing.  In his defense he was chaperoning our son's class trip.

3:05 from P (G's mom):  G said that Mishya is riding home with Maestra A today?
3:05 me: Not that I know of--ill call her.  (note the poor use of a lower case i and no apostrophe--obvious signs of distress on my part)
3:05 me calling Mishya's phone--straight to voicemail
3:05 me calling my mother who had been the last family member to communicate with Mishya: Did Mishya say something about riding home with Maestra A?
3:06 my mom: no, she had her bus pass, her keys and money for ice cream when she got off the bus.

pause for you to say, oh how sweet money for ice cream...
back to me now, cause it's my blog...

3:06 me to my mom: I'll call you back.
3:06 me calling Mishya: where are you??
Mishya: on the bus. G got on the bus in front of mine. I saw him as I was walking up to the stop.
me: you're on the bus? with who?
Mishya: I know the driver. I didn't want to stand on the street corner and call you.
me: okay, G thought you were getting a ride home.  Get off the bus at your normal stop and call me. Then walk home and call me when you get there, too.

3:07 from me to P: can you call my cell?

P calling me.  2 moms with 2 kids on 2 separate buses in the aforementioned 'hood...you fill in the blanks.  Ends with P deciding G will meet Mishya at the bus stop to walk her home.

3:25 Mishya to me: I'm at the bus stop, Where's G?
me to Mishya: just go get ice cream and wait for him there

Pause for moment of defense. The ice cream shop is next to bus stop, don't think I'm sending her off to wander. Seriously, what do you think of me? That I am some crazy mom who will let her pre-teen daughter ride trimet aimlessly by herself and then go get ice cream?? geesh!

3:30 me to Mishya: I'm proud of you.
3:30 Mishya to me: Why?

Love that kid.

Whole story.  Mishya was late getting back to school from a field trip.  She was riding back to the school in Maestra A's car.  When she saw G she rolled down her window and shouted out (in a moving vehicle as she rode past, mind you...poor G) "I'm getting a ride back to school wait for me" (please add your own fading away sound here...) G heard "I'm getting a ride back to......" he inferred (as all good 6th graders do cause it's a state standard.) using his knowledge that
 1) it was after school, 2) Mishya was in a moving car and 3) that she yelled "I'm getting a ride..."
That Mishya was getting a ride home.  I hear that he wanted to rush back to the ice cream shop to help her out when he got home and P gave him the what for!

I owe P some wine.  I owe G some ice cream.  I owe Mishya my respect.