...the other mother.

My business partner, dear friend and fellow mommy-blogger, Skyla has a regular feature on her blog, Cool Beans, called "Not Me Monday". I love it! It is honest, funny, charming and clever. I was at her house last Monday and we talked about it over scones with jam a healthy snack. I told her I was gonna give it a whirl on my blog if I ever had a reason to. But I didn't think it would happen because I am a perfect mother... the person that screws up, neglects her children, eats too much chocolate, worries too much about her appearance and doesn't have a piping hot meal on the table and a clean house when her husband comes home......well that is "the other mother".

So here is my first tale of the "other mother"...

On Wednesdays I have a great routine. Walk Meg to school, Lola falls asleep, I do some work around the house, meet Maria for coffee at The Carrot and then walk across the street to my great yoga class at Bedouin Beats. Last Wednesday however things went a bit pear-shaped. Miss Lola did not fall asleep on the walk home. I was definetly not pissed that I wouldn't get the breakfast dishes away and my emails answered. Nope, I was thrilled that I would have some extra quality time to hang out with my delightful 5 month old. I would never just pop Lola into her Rock and Bounce still in her pyjamas so that I could carry on, business as usual.
Those emails could wait and I certainly wouldn't waste spend time on facebook or catching up on my favourite blogs. No way, not at all! In my perfection I would never have heard a huge rumble in her diaper and smile sweetly at her only to carry on with my indulgent business. Her comfort and happiness is my number one priority. I wouldn't hope that the episode of Sex and The City educational programming on TV would keep her amused while I finished just one last thing. And of course there is no way that I would hear even more poop sounds and keep blindly typing away. Never ever would I wait another fifteen minutes before looking up at her again only to find her skating around in a poop puddle. Her little legs slip-sliding away under her, grinning from ear to ear. If this did happen, which I assure you it did NOT, the last thing I would be thinking of is grabbing my camera to document the event. That would be hilarious dreadful, unforgiveable behaviour for a mother of my caliber. Let me be clear about this... I would never have phoned my mother to tell the tale and laugh about it while she continued to swirl her toes in the yellow mess. Nope, not a chance. And under no circumstances would I look at that smile on her face and decide that if she was still happy then I could surely get a bit more work done while she wallowed played for a while longer.

There is no way I could fathom stripping down to my knickers right in my living room to retrieve her from her filth so that I would not ruin my new shirt and jeans. Unacceptable! Wouldn't do it. After an escapade like that a child would most definetly need a 30 minute soak in a warm bath. Of that I can be sure. I know I could never let this poopapalooza happen because you would not find me on my hands and knees scrubbing the yellow poop grout out of the cracks in my hardwood floor. Not on your life.

Nope, that would be the "other mother" and I have the pictures to prove it.