Checking My Connectivity

What would motherhood be without a little therapy, right? Jeremy and Natalia dropped me off at my counselor's appointment today and Natalia asked me what was up. I told her that it was where I go to talk out some stuff about my childhood and she was totally psyched and wanted to come too. Well, at least she is supportive. I jokingly told her that maybe someday she will go and talk it out about my mothering skills to some random licensed stranger. Her answer to that statement will differ depending on the gravitational pull of the moon, the serotonin re-uptake levels, the color of her socks and the ratio of length of elapsed time since last snack vs sugar content. This is the key to whether I am the Evil Queen, or the Best Mom Ever. I'm practically like Einstein since I figured out this equation and deserve the tween equivalent of the Nobel Peace Prize.

I did do quite a bit of soul searching regarding how I stay connected to Natalia, and how I plan to keep that up. Most of my sane living has been self taught by watching a living "How Not To Do Things" tutorial. It's a good thing I pay attention and I'm a relatively quick learner. Take Jeremy, for example: He's the longest standing friendship I've ever had and I've put a lot of work into this one. It's been 99% fun and I love it. He's cute, smart, I'm totally into him and I can do this some more. I have a hard time wrapping my mind around parents who CHOSE to no longer work at having a relationship with their children. I mean, I can kind of get choosing to ignore your spouse, but your baby (they are always our babies)? I know, I know. I've already blogged about that one too, so I'll leave it at that. Let's all roll our eyes at those ridiculous dead beat parents and hold up our hands in the "W" for the "whatever" sign. Whatever.

Now, for y'all with young school age girls, I'm going to do something truly horrible. Remember the Barbie movie "Barbie & The Diamond Castle"? "I feel connected, protected. It's like you're standing right by me all the time. Nothing can break this, nothing can break this, nothing can break this tie. Connected." Okay. That was just me being mean because I've had that song stuck in my head and I just had to pass it on. Annoyingly catchy, isn't it? I didn't even have a point. I just think it's funny.

This week is Natalia's birthday (yes, Lacow girls get an entire week) and she had a day off of school so we took the opportunity to actually plan something besides homework coffee shop night. Jeremy and I even weaseled a date night out of his parents this week. Sweet. For me, nothing says "family connection" like a little competition. That's right. We started off with some putt putt where I learned that if Natalia would just take her time, she's actually pretty good even though she swings her club like a Louisville slugger and cheats like there's no tomorrow. Par two my hiney. Then there was the laser tag where team Lacow was up against team Martinez. Granted, they did have the cutest team member in her three year old formal dress AND she shot me twice! Aside from that, Natalia had my flank and she and I racked up some serious points nailing the home base all Evil Queen/Princess Natalia style.                     

Sure there is still the arguing over toenail length, but then there are plenty of times when she and I are in our mommy daughter zone that even Jeremy doesn't get. Things like clear coat nail polish doused with craft glitter and makeovers where she looks gorgeous and I look "perfect" to her, but the mirror says I have a melanoma mark on my forehead painted on by mascara. Seriously, the exclamation from Natalia when she was done was "AH! Perfect! Mommy you look so good, just like the Bratz dolls from the movie I watched. Look, look!" I was expecting all those Sephora sample trips to have finally payed off and to see some mad skillz. Well, there was this melanoma thing, glitter, and the blue eye shadow...... we'll make more trips to Sephora because practice makes perfect and Sephora makes me happy.

I can't imagine ever not wanting to sit on the floor while painting nails and playing with makeup. I love laying in her bed with her while I go through our bedtime routine. I've found it's the best way to catch up on what is rolling around in that complexly beautiful brain of hers. It's a bit more streamlined when Jeremy puts her to bed, but how it's supposed to go down is we are supposed to 1) Read a book, 2) Sing a song 3) Lights out and I leave. Well, 1 and 2 go smoothly, but then we get to talking and giggling and then I sometimes fall asleep because she is so stinkin' snuggilicious and smells like my baby. I don't remember my mom ever doing anything like that with me so I'm way ahead of the therapy curve I'm sure. Then again, there are always things like my "child labor sticks of despair", making her and her sleepover friend clean up before bedtime (gasp!), and all those arguments over toenails. Maybe I'm still in the running for "my mom ruined my life" therapy after all depending on the above mentioned equation. Quick! Check her socks!