Growing Pains

Sometimes it blows my mind when I think of Declan getting older. And that to him I will always be "mom". It breaks my heart to think about the day he'll sink down in the car to avoid being seen with me. The day I look at myself in pictures and see the frumptastic outfit I thought was cool. But I've always cared about what was cool. At least, I cared for a long time. I think that part of me is fading fast. And my identity is now two fold, but I'm hoping it doesn't make me fractured.

I've always been a cusser. In fact, I've always gravitated toward the edgier parts of life: parties, gossip, cussing. I've never been demure, conservative or excessively rule-abiding. I've always been what they call outspoken to your face and bitchy behind your back. And I can own that. At least that way, I get to say what I really want and not mask it behind a pinched smile. I've always enjoyed having the freedom to do and say exactly what I want when I want.

But Mom doesn't. Mom is patient, mutes cuss words from songs and doesn't let Gigi watch Fight Club while babysitting (waaay too much violence for a toddler). So does this mean I'm evolving? Or maybe it's an identity crisis. At home, I am in charge all the time. Every decision I make, excluding those that are made in conjunction with my husband, is mine and mine alone. I pay the bills, mop the floors, and decide which games Declan plays. I am the boss lady. Some women do this before they are mothers. Some women, those I envy, not only get it all done but they also have a cache full of great recipes and decorate the house for holidays, complete with theme cookies. I had a wrought iron pumpkin on the porch from October to May. Lana did that one.

And Lana is sometimes neglected. Lana likes to dance all night and yell and laugh and sleep all day. I sound like Tyler Durden. I am not a split personality (yet), but to deny my "Lananess" leaves me lonely. What makes it worse is that most of the friends I've nurtured over the years just aren't doing the same thing I am right now. And while I envy people who can just take their kids along to whatever they are doing and can enjoy themselves (as my mom swears she could) just the same, that is just not what I'm finding works for us.

Most of the things I loved (and still love) to do were not family friendly. Tailgating is a blast...until you do it with a wiggly toddler who just wants to run up and down the hill and open and shut porta-potty doors the whole time while you stare longingly at those people who get to actually have a conversation. Bars are great, but come on, I'm not that hard up!

Most of my closest friends are not mommies yet. So, I've spent the last 10 months trying to find some new additions. And I have to say, I'm doing a pretty good job. People say that as an adult it's harder to make friends. Well, what about as a mom? My goal is to find friends who can jibe with both sides of my existence. Play groups and potty training by day, Chardonnay by night. But just wanting the Chardonnay doesn't cut it these days. Now I have to first want Chardonnay, then either put Declan to sleep and drink it while watching TV, something I've always found a little useless because there's no one to talk to, or find a sitter, and then the hardest part of all, find someone else who would like to go have a drink to go with me. Because I either have to plan it so far in advance that by the time it comes, someone ends up with an excuse to bail or so spur of the moment that everyone already has plans.

And even as I'm writing this, I know that every mom feels this way. Whether she wishes she could spend more time doing bible study or dancing on the bar (you guess which one is me). And I've seen lots of mommy facebook posts asking if it's time for a drink yet at about 4:00 on a Friday. These are my people. My name is mommy, but you can call me Lana.

Blocked

I think I'm hitting a creative low right now. It seems I'd rather watch my nightly Bravo than express myself creatively. Hence my lack of blog posts. Rachel Zoe is stealing my mojo. I die. Bear with me, my zest for writing will return. Until then, I'll give you some of the very best examples of why having a 1 1/2 year old rocks.

1. When Declan's hungry or eating something he likes, he stares at his food and gives a throaty mmmm. He also does it to me or Rich if we have something he thinks is delicious. And in public to strangers.

2. This weekend, I met a 3 year old little girl who was the same size, if not a little smaller, as Declan. When we got home, Declan seemed like a toddler giant.

3. Declan makes friends wherever we go. The last time I took him to the doctor, in spite of feeling pretty cruddy, he put on a show, complete with a dance and a shimmy for the doc and his assistant. Most of the checkers at Dillons know him by name.

4. Declan learned how to say "shhhh!" and whisper. He knows to whisper outside of Daddy's office. When he says shhh, he also does the finger motion in front of the lips. His finger is always up his nose.

5. His new favorite song is "She Wolf" by Shakira.

6. Sometimes when we are walking side by side he reaches up and takes my hand.

7. He'll now get the phone and tell me the person he'd like me to call. Then we call so he can say hello.

8. He told me this time before he pooped in the tub. I enjoy his preparedness.

9. Dec loves slides. The joy he gets from a slide ride greatly outweighs the joy I get from any activity. Even shopping.

10. I spent my second weekend away from him and he survived. I was doubtful that this could occur. It's called progress people. Progress!