Mother's Day for control freaks (that's me)

I find that the hardest part of being a mom is letting go of control.

Control over how clean the dishes actually are...because when the nine-year-old  is hand-washing them, you just have to be grateful they come through the process in one piece.  Leftover mystery spots can be dealt with on an individual basis.  Dear friends and family, I promise to personally wash the dishes before you are invited to eat at our house, though.

Control over how the clothes are folded and where they are put away...because when the eleven-year-old is folding them, you can't expect him to tell the difference between HIS pants and HIS FATHER'S pants, since they're practically the same size.  Facepalm.  And then there's the matter of putting my pile of clothes right where the dog likes to lay down.  Lowell, you have trained Dharma well.  I may never get rid of the dog hair.  But at least the clothes are folded, and heavens knows I haven't been doing it lately....

Control over what you have for breakfast...although Sunday I was actually grateful to have diabetes, because it gave me a plausible reason for the boys NOT to make me breakfast in bed.  That may sound harsh, but Ethan's experimenting nature can be, ummmmm, more than I can handle.  Just because it's in the spice cupboard (NUTMEG!) doesn't mean it should go in eggs.

Control over the preteen's appearance...because, lets get real, he's got this Justin Beiber/mop thing going on and he LOVES it.  Sigh.

At least we've got him convinced that changing your underwear daily isn't optional...which was a longer conversation than you'd think.  Turns out he has more fear of bacterial infections in his nether regions than he does of me.  Gasp.


Back on the ranch.

Control over what your toddler's nose looks like, stupid curb.  And gravity.  And new, clunky shoes.  And his ever-increasing sense of independence.

I'm just glad the bump on the noggin and the swollen lip went away as fast as they did.  He heals like Wolverine.  Or his dad.

But there are some definite perks that come with the job...lately, the big one was that I got to spend a day with some wild animals (best Mother's Day present EVER!).

Oh...wait...those aren't wild animals...that's Ethan and Elijah.  I can understand the confusion;  sometimes they seem like gorillas to me, too...complete with chest thumping, menacing growls, and a never ending struggle for dominance...

There was also A LOT of imperious pointing on Gabriel's part...

It's a good thing he only has two brothers...he still has enough fingers to point at them individually when they're being "naughty."  I wonder what he'll do when his sister comes...

And then there is the unbeatable joy that a toddler of the boy variety feels upon seeing an elephant for the first time.  I wish I had caught that on camera, but I decided to just enjoy the moment.  I did get this one, though:

Coolest.  Okapi.  EVAR.

All in all, I decided that it was my favorite gift so far--time with Jon and my boys, although it did remind me that one of the worst ways moms lose control is that part of their heart is walking around outside their body where just ANYONE can hurt it. 

Next up in the series on motherhood:  why people who think pregnant women are delicate flowers have clearly never been around a pregnant woman.  Unless they're comparing them to weird jungle flowers that emit toxic fumes and/or devour everything within a five foot radius, including their own offspring.