I know what you are thinking, “My goodness what an incredible likeness!” This is a picture Cheyenne drew of me in kindergarten. You may notice that I was thinner then, but my hair color remains about the same. I love the fashion statement I was making there with the purple purse, green shoes and smile. I never got hung up on the fact that I had no clothes because I was accessorized so well (and ultimately that is what makes the outfit- right?).

This was the same year that she did a Mother’s Day sheet for me that said all kinds of interesting things to include Cheyenne’s estimation of my weight. Oh yes, there it was on display for all to see Cheyenne’s mommy’s age (45 at the time), her favorite food (enchiladas) and her weight – 40 pounds. Well, the weight was a little off, but barely.

It is hard to believe that this was five years ago. I think her image of me has changed since then. After seeing the movie “Up” recently, she adopted the phrase “elderly assistance” and has been using it liberally. I love hearing, “Mom, do you need some elderly assistance?” I try and limit my reactions to the “elderly assistance” comments because, as all parents know, the reinforcement of such things lies in the response they receive to their comment. I am hoping that the thrill of referring to me as “elderly” will pass – soon.

I am not entirely sure when I went from the cool mom not afraid to go out sans clothes (but well accessorized) to the mom who needs “elderly assistance”, but it has become increasingly clear to me over the past few years that my days of walking on water are numbered. It used to be that I was the “Mommy” – the fixer of all things, the champion of all field trips, and the one that was loved to the moon and back. Now I am just the “Mom” – the one that hardly ever has the right answer, the parent that is sternly admonished, “Oh God, just don’t embarrass me!”, and the one that is tolerated because she buys stuff at the mall.

I have the original of the sketch above taped to my desk to remind me of my glory days as a “Mommy”. Even as I enjoy the little ‘tween that Cheyenne is growing toward (and let me emphasize at this point that “enjoy” is a relative term), I miss the time when the hugs and kisses, arts and crafts and holding my hand were the order of the day. The time when: the love was unconditional 24/7; the child was not opinionated and the ability to deliver biting commentary was not fully developed; the Easter Bunny, Tooth Fairy and Santa were never questioned; and I was still allowed to select the outfit of the day.

Back in the days of “Mommy”… (2006)

Intellectually I recognize that there is an “Up”-side to her growing up and away from her “Mommy” (and it isn’t related to “elderly assistance”). She is becoming a force to be reckoned with as she grows older and I am confident that she will be a strong and assertive young woman who knows her own mind. I sometimes take solace in that thought – that she is growing into a powerhouse in her own right – and then I think of how “interesting” (again, this is a relative term) it will be over the next eight years as she fully comes into her own.

I think I better take up yoga and perhaps Prozac in preparation for my descent into being “Mother” (said with full intonation and exasperation)…again. It doesn’t get any easier the fourth time around. Is it really too late to have another baby? Oh right, only if I want to raise the child in the old folks’ home per the three children who already call me “Mother”.  Ah, the joys of raising self-assured, assertive children not afraid to speak their minds…can’t exactly recall presently why that was my goal. Perhaps I need some “elderly assistance” on this front. 🙂

Day twenty-one of the new forty – obla di obla da

CC