Graduating from Mommy to Mom.

My poetic mind always has grand ideas of how things should go.  For example, when I walked down the aisle I imaged everyone gazing at me as I beautifully floated along like a cloud, in actuality I walked so slow they had to play the trumpet voluntary twice and had I known I would be ugly crying all over my veil, I would have stuffed a tissue in my strapless gown that I spent the entire night pulling up.
When I brought my third son home from the hospital I imagined his older siblings rushing to see him with open arms. Instead I walked into a complete meltdown over a bowl of goldfish which resulted in me directing an F-bomb at my mother-in-law and staying in my room for 2 days. Crying that I could never bring him home for the first time ever again.
This trend continued when we decided to surprise the boys with a new puppy.  The three older ones were at a basketball game, we took Oscar with us to pick up the puppy in the country.  As soon as we pulled out of the ATM ( cash only breeder) Oscar puked. We thought it may be a fluke, like he choked on milk or something. Unlikely and Wrong.  It happened again and he Don had to surrender his sweatshirt for the 15 min. ride. A shirtless husband is nice, in the right circumstances and this was not one of them.  I opened the window to air out the van as we continued our pursuit to puppy ville. When we got home I placed the puppy in a box and the boys were so excited and and asked if we could keep him and if we could name him Paul. Yes and No!  After the 10 minute excitement dissipated, I was left alone in the room with a puppy and a baby who smelled like puke.
Oscar's eruption was the Earth quake before the tsunami of vomit hit our house. Within 48 hours 3 of us would experience it. At one point I had a husband hugging a toilet in one room, a baby being held over the kitchen sink and a new puppy crying for dear life for its mother. Not exactly the picture I had in my mind...
We survived the week and last night I was told (at dinner) that there was a third grade skating party at 5:30 which was in 20 min. that Parker HAD to go to or he would apparently, die. I had been home from work for less than a half hour, but its not like I had anything else I could possibly want to do.
As we held hands walking into the rink my first born and I crossed an invisible line that I fear we can never return back.  He pulled his hand away and asked me to not talk to him in front of his friends. He called me Mom, which was honestly the first time he didn't refer to me as Mommy. It was as if we were suspending the disbelief that he, being 8 years old drove himself there.  What a sham, they all rode there and most of them in a booster seat.   I agreed however and placed myself on the carpeted cube.  Soon someone needed my help, I wasn't sure who because I was suppose to act like I didn't know him. So this stranger who I gave birth to needed my help tying his skates. Skates he has never worn or attempted to skate with..ever.  I happily tied his skates (which he had to change because he got the wrong size because he doesn't shop for his shoes). He stood up, took a couple of strides and did a comical fall which resulted with him flat on his back. This fall would have earned us $100,000 on America's Funniest Home Videos.  I know you are not suppose to laugh at your children, but I could not hold this in. I desperately tried to, which only resulted in an outburst of HA!  I quickly turned and walked away to the dismay of another mom who had a cell phone on her belt which was proudly displayed thanks to her tucked in turtle neck.   I knew he wasn't hurt, so what is wrong with letting him bite the dust once in awhile?
One of my favorite past times as a pre-teen was to go to the roller rink.  It was cool. But nothing can jade a memory than seeing it as an adult.  How are these places legal? All these dark carpeted corners, in the dark, its a pedophiles playground.  I watched as kids skated around and remembered how I could do the speed criss crossy thing all while listening to L' Trimm. (In case you have forgotten, they sang the 88 hit called Cars that go boom from their GRAB IT! album.)
Now I watched my son cling to the wall mouthing the words to LMAFO's sexy and I know it. First of all, how does he know that song and secondly, SEXY? Just the previous day I overheard him tell Wally (the new puppy) that he was sexy. We may need to review appropriate adjectives soon.
After the lap that likely took an entire song he returned to me to spew hatred towards the sport of roller skating. How lame it was and how he needed a roller walker.  I'm embarrassing, but rolling around with a roller walker isn't? Fine. I paid $3 to rent this lame piece of plastic and he confidently went back to the stampede of roller skaters.  With in three seconds he has falle, this time, forward and flipped over the walker landing on his head...again, hold back the laughter.
After another song he returned and said he hated the roller walker and wanted a hot dog.  There was no way I was going to let him eat at this place. How do they even have a food permit? And I paid 3 hard earned dollars (which could have paid for a portion of my latte) for that walker and not to mention 2 hours of my life and he was going out for another 3 songs.  Period. He stormed off, or he attempted to with choppy baby steps back to the rink.
I watched as little girls skated by and shook their hips with more lucidity than I ever have, and come to think of it some of their chests were more than I will ever have too.
How did I not notice how bored my parents were at all of my functions? I looked around and every parent had a blank stare as if we had all been hypnotized by the disco ball.  Finally it was time to go.  As we got into the car to ride home I asked him if he had fun.  "No".  So I realize that he had a different idea of how things were to go, and it didn't involve him lying flat on the floor instead of being a speed racer.   He did learn a lesson and that is that he have no desire to step foot in a roller rink again, and by all accounts, I couldn't be happier.  When we got home he said, "Thanks Mommy", and with that I was reassured that I hadn't lost my title as Mommy, at least not quite yet.