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Tales of a Beaverton Super-Mom

| May 8, 2013 | 0 Comments

Tales of a Super-MomI’m Still Always the Winner… Right?

by Maureen Wilson

There is a ritual going on in our home every evening around 8:30 that causes so much yelling, consternation, and charges of unfairness that I’m not sure why we continue to allow it. Probably because along with the madness, there is also a sense of wild, unfettered joy, and the girls—despite all the screaming—count on it as the final release of the day. The chaos I’m referring to is called “Race You Up The Stairs,” and it’s a game of mad skills that should incorporate about a thousand life lessons along the way that are so much more important than the finish, but still the goal remains to get to the landing first in one piece…even if winning means your head slams into the linen closet and you lose a few layers of skin on the bannister.

Last week my 4 yr-old stopped halfway up to share with me this tidbit of knowledge: “Here ith the deal, mom. When I win, EVERYBODY winth. When I loo-th, NOBODY winth. Do you underthtand?”

Um, I think I do. And I’ve met your kind before, lady. So let me take this moment to give the appropriate lecture- preschool style– on the reality of the game:  that there will always be someone faster and stronger, or someone who cheats, or someone who gets VIP treatment and is unfairly elevated to the top, but none of that should ever change YOUR effort in the race.

“Okay then, mommy” she said.  “Are you done?  Yeth?  Tho… I’m thtill ALWAYTH the winner, right?” For now, yes. Enjoy it while you can.

The 10 yr-old now has legs almost as long as mine and can fake us out despite the narrow width of walls, and the 8yr-old is deceptively speedy and agile.  Of course, their father and I can outpower all of them if we really try (snort). But it’s watching the older girls slow down to let Kiana pass or team up to help her beat us that makes me feel –on some very basic level –like we are raising generous, helpful kiddos. Or maybe just kiddos who will join together as teens to run circles around their tired and potentially clueless parents.

After one of these recent races (and after Kiana explained to her father that if he wasn’t willing to play Barbies with her that VERY minute that she was supposed to turn off her light, he might possibly be asking for a time out), we apparently lost track of All That’s Important and sent everyone to bed without final checks. When Kiana wandered down the next morning in the prior day’s clothes, I exclaimed, “K-ster!! Did you not get pj’s on last night??”

“Nope,” she said matter-of-factly. “Didn’t bwush my teeth, either. It was a PWE-TTY CWAY-ZEE night.”

Girl, racing up the stairs and skipping basic hygiene is as cway-zee as it ever needs to get. You go ahead tell your college roommates that in a few years, okay?

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Category: Beaverton Voice, Tales of a Super-Mom

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