"I need to get reorganized."
"He's never done that before!"
"I thought I had this figured out..."
I feel like I'm living oddly parallel lives these days. By day, I'm a new mom with an incredibly particular diva of a son. By night (and by that I mean Thursday evenings), I'm still a horse-crazy teenager locked in an almost-27-year-old's body. Thing is, I find myself comparing these two lives and coming away with the notion that the are more similar that they might seem on paper.
My little boy is a moving target. He likes to throw me a curve ball just when I think I'm starting to get things figured out. Optimists would say "ah, it keeps you on your toes!" Well, I don't *want* to be on my toes. My body is too worn out from holding, bouncing and rocking the little bear!
Keenan threw me a curve ball himself just last week (is there some sort of chat room these two go to? www.howtomesswithmom.com??). After almost two years of being a professional butt-saver, the little stinker threw me under the bus. It's like all of a sudden he decided that the best way for me to figure stuff out was to cease being the world's most generous horse. Of course, he was right. I had to ride him like I've never done before - very forward and determined, with gritted teeth and a steely resolve that we WOULD do the line in three strides. We WOULD get our lead change as soon as possible. I went from riding in a very reserved, conservative way (the way I *had* to ride when there was a baby in my tummy) to having my guns blazing, with a "Seize the Day!" mentality. And darn if there wasn't a knowing look in that horse's eye when I put him back in his stall an hour later. He and Henri sure are smart.
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