For about a week every year my brother-in-law is invited on a business trip to the Dominican Republic. Spouses are invited, but kids are not. Since my sister and brother-in-law have four boys, ages ranging from 7 to 17, a babysitter is undoubtedly required. Generally, their trip to the Dominican falls during my college's finals week and the boys spend the week with their grandmother. Three years ago, while they were on the trip, my nephew needed new black pants for his jazz band concert. I was elected, at the ripe age of 19, to take him shopping for the pants. Unfortunately, after trips to T.J.Maxx, Old Navy, and WalMart, I had come up with nothing, and he wore his too-short-Steve-Urkle slacks to the show. Unsurprisingly, the shopping excursion ended with this tweet - a heartwarming and ultimately true affirmation from my (at the time) 12 year-old nephew:
Now I'm 22. Seasoned, mature, responsible. I have graduated Magna Cum Laude with a Bachelor's degree in psychology with a double minor in sociology and writing. I have taken courses in child development, human development, and childhood learning. I understand token economies as the best way of forming and reinforcing good behavior, I know at what age the brain is fully developed, and I am currently reading Masterminds and Wingmen: Helping Our Boys Cope with Schoolyard Power, Locker-Room Tests, Girlfriends, and the New Rules of Boy World by Roselind Wiseman for pleasure.
I am more than qualified to take care of my four nephews, so this week, I am playing mom for five whole days.
You might be sitting there thinking, "five days is nothing!" and if you're thinking that, I am only on day two and I'm ready to assure you that you're totally and completely wrong... and clearly not a mother. Holy. Shit.
The following are three of the lessons I've learned so far from my temporary stay in the land of parenting:
Motherhood Lesson 1: Seven (a.m.) is the new eleven.
Let us begin with a note about the sleeping differential between adults and children. Adults, can generally stay up pretty late and would (if you ask me) prefer to sleep-in late. My 7 year-old godson? Totally not into that arrangement. Yesterday morning, I awoke to two little feet, with ten little cold toes climbing into my bunk (he requested that I sleep in his brother's bottom bunk instead of on the couch or in my sister's king size bed). He squirmed his little piggies underneath the covers and under my leg to warm 'em up as I struggled to separate my top eyelids from the bottom ones. This was at 7:30 a.m. A time I haven't seen on a Saturday since my youth basketball days. Which makes sense because that's where we were headed; recreational youth basketball.
Motherhood Lesson 2: Your kid is not looking at you until he's looking for you.
Once we got to the gym, I realized I apparently missed the memo about all caretakers bringing their own fold up chair, so I stood for the hour. Which I actually preferred because then I could follow my nephew's team around from station to station to watch him dribble, shoot, pass, etc. Unfortunately, 7 year-olds, as I came to find, are not totally tuned into what their parents are doing while they're shooting hoops. My nephew only noticed me during one station... where he assumed I sat the entire time. I, like I said, was actually moving to watch every one of his stations. At the end of practice, when all six teams of second graders fled to the middle of the court, cheered together, and dispersed to find their rides home, I assumed he'd come meet me at the last station, having at least noticed that I was moving around the gym with his team. Boy was I wrong. My nephew ran to where he had noticed me last: the opposite side of the gym. The anxiety on his face was heartbreaking, as he stared at the spot I had stood during layups at Station Three... 35 minutes prior. I made my way over to him, he was fine, and I decided that if my kid ever plays youth basketball, I'm going to be the coach. You can't lose the coach.
Motherhood Lesson 3: Showers are a gift from God.
My morning routine, outside of this weeklong experience, takes about 45 minutes. Wake up. Brush teeth. Make coffee. Shower. Blow dry. Make up. Clothes. That would be an option this week if I started my day 45 minutes before the kids woke up! Except, who knows really what time that will be? Last night I found time to shower between 10:00 p.m. when the four youngins were finally sound asleep (two of my other sister's children slept over last night too: SLUMBIE!), my 15 year-old nephew was playing a video game, and my 17 year-old nephew was not yet home for his 11 p.m. curfew. The shower was unbelievable, but blowdrying my hair seemed out of the question, I didn't want to wake anyone up with be blowdryer. Bedtime finally came at 11:30, when everyone was accounted for, in their rooms, asleep. That meant 7 hours of sleep until my sister came to pick up two of the kids for hockey in the morning, but I didn't fall asleep right away. I laid awake in bed for a few minutes running through the schedule for tomorrow, wondering when I would shower next...
Don't get me wrong, I am having a blast! The six person monkey-in-the-middle game yesterday was the most fun I've had in a long time! My nieces and nephews are all great kids, but I can't say this enough: I am undeniably impressed with how hard my sisters and my own mom work. I'm sure I will learn about 15 million more lessons before this week is up, so I'll keep you guys posted. Also, I just have one really quick question: do moms take naps? ... asking for a friend.
Link to Rosalind Wiseman's website: Masterminds and Wingmen has a sister-book, Queen Bees and Wannabes, as well as a book for parents about parents, Queen Bee Moms and King Pin Dads:
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