Puddles

I got that from my in-laws this past birthday. I need another one that says something about moms and sick days. I was miserably ill today. My poor boys had to go to the doctor with me, and then to fill my prescription. RJ had a hard time waiting. He didn't want to wait for the iPad. He didn't want to walk nicely in the store. He didn't want to wait patiently for our lunch in the Target food avenue. We made it through lunch, picked up my meds, and headed for the front door, only to find it pouring down rain. We waited it out, because the last thing this sickly mom wanted to do is get wet trying to buckle the kids into their seats.

About 15 minutes later, we headed through the wet parking lot towards the car.  RJ, of course, stomped at the first puddle he could find. I said "Oh no! You aren't going to jump in every puddle you see, are you?" He said, "Oh.... Sorry mommy..."

That's when I realized that I was being THAT MOM again. The harried, frustrated, snapping mom. Trust me, anyone who has had a 3 year old boy probably understands. We all have a little bit of THAT MOM in us, but I like to think I'm in control of that most of the time. I save it for moments like the Buc-ees story.

Sickly mommy often turns ino THAT MOM way too easily. And RJ really is a great kid. And puddles are fun. I looked at my sweet boy, and said "You know what, jump with both feet when we get to this next one!" The look on his face was priceless, and the gleeful laughter made me feel better. For a moment.