On Tuesday, I participated in my very first Girl’s Night Out with the church ladies. I’ve never been a church lady before — frankly, because my idea of funny can sometimes skate a little close to other people’s idea of offensive. Go figure. But I seem to have found a really inclusive (read: tolerant and forgiving) congregation and decided to be brave and risk throwing myself in the midst of an unfamiliar group of women. It was great. Turns out more than a few of them have taught at a pre-K or elementary, level and one was able to recommend a really great series of books designed for educators that would help me anticipate the obstacles most common with each developmental phase as well as appreciate the great new milestones that occur simultaneously. Score! I left thinking I might be able to be a good mom to these kids after all.

The entire next day I felt just a little bit lighter and was able to maintain calm through several potentially nerve-jangling, everyday moments. But the icing on the cake came last night with the monthly meeting of the Bunco Babes. If you followed us at all over at www.burrusboys.blogspot.com, you know the Bunco Babes have been the rock I lean on for well over a decade now (although we’re all still really, REALLY young). For some unknown reason, these incredibly fantastic girls hunted me down and refused to let me get in the way of them becoming my best friends for life. I absolutely love that in a person. I still remember Kim picking me up for the first Bunco meeting — she’s one of those special personalities where fifteen minutes after getting to know her you’re willing to take a bullet for her. Then once you REALLY get to know her, the realization dawns that there’s a chance it will be necessary at some point.

I love that we called B and urge her to get her @$$ down from the frozen climes of the north (o.k. New Hampshire, but still). And that we all agreed to pretend Jennifer had just gotten her dates mixed up instead of moving all the way to Texas (which makes no difference, and don’t even think that lets you out of our motley little crew). I love that Kathe is keeping me from making any mis-steps as Jack enters kindergarten. And Lisa’s willing drive WAY out of her way to work out with me so I can lose weight — even though she’ll have to dial her own workout down to geriatric level for me to keep up. And I especially love that everyone managed to fein disappointment (sort of) that Karla forgot the dice, so we had to make do with eating, drinking and laughing instead of actually playing bunco. We caught up on what’s going on with everyone’s kids. I managed to hold little Gray for a minute or two even though we KNOW Ann’s such a baby hog. And we planned all the fun things we’re going to do together once our kids are grown and we’re ourselves again.

I left this group feeling like Jodi instead of mom — you know, that Jodi that existed before kids. The selfish one who daydreamed of traveling and writing and writing and traveling — with excellent food and wine thrown in between. Heaven.

The result? I’ve been a good mom today. There’ve been no moments where I’ve wished to be somewhere else. I haven’t yelled when I could have spoken nicely. I’ve been patient when I might have lost it completely. In short, I’ve been the me I would prefer to be all the time.

Everyone says they’re just sure I’ve got a parenting book in me waiting to come out. Truth is, I don’t have a clue. I’m making it up as I go along. What I will tell you…the one thing that won’t fail you whether you have kids or not…Don’t. Lose. Your friends. They’ll buoy you up, steer you around obstacles they’ve already crashed into and help you remember who you wanted to be when you grew up. They’re irreplaceable.

Incidentally, a good man is hard to find. Fortunately for me, mine let me get two nights away from home despite having had killer workdays beforehand. He’s the best and I’m very, very fortunate to have him. Love you, Jason!!

Sam: Tommy, I not an angel anymore.

Me: What? You’re not my angel boy anymore?

Tom: Mommy, I’m still your angel boy. (presenting his grinning face for kisses)

Jack: I’m still your angel boy, too, mom.

Sam: Me, too!

Me: *distributing kisses and hugs all around*

Sam: But Mom?

Me: What baby?

Sam: Sammy angel just tooted in his pants.

*Sam grins proudly while Tom and Jack hold their noses and the whole cast descends into hysterical giggling*

Aaaaand…scene.

My fuse is short, my gut is large, and my brain is progressively deteriorating. But it’s time to stop the the slide. Starting right now, I’m going to —

Mommy! Where are you?

*sigh* (no such luck)

Let’s revisit this one tomorrow, shall we?

I know you are honey, but how many times have I told you guys to stop the horseplay?

Eighty-eight?

At least.

Jack, you’re the best brother ever!

Thanks, Tom! You say that every day and I love hearing it!

And Holy Hannah, the humidity!!! How can you have 99.9% humidity? Isn’t that pretty much rain? Oh, well. At least it’s not a dry heat. Arizonans can tout that advantage all they want, but lifetime residents look like they’ve been freeze dried. At least in the south, we may be sweaty, but we’re relatively wrinkle free.

Now I’m off to try and entertain the kids for the rest of the day. If we swim in chlorinated water, does it count as a bath? Not that I’d ever DO that of course. I was just checking…for a friend.

But Sunday seemed to be going fairly well, but I suppose it was just the calm before the storm. Everyone had just had baths and I was toweling off the last dripping boy, when a wail rose up from the next room where I’d laid out all their pajamas. Expecting the usual, “He touched me!” or “He made that face at me!” I was completely shocked to see a TOOTH lying in Jack’s outstretched hand.

It seems an surprise chest bump from behind* had sent Jack careening into a doorknob. Fortunately, his lips were out of the way and there’s only a small bruise on his gum and a missing baby tooth to show for it. After a frantic phone call to our dentist (We love you, Ron!), we determined that it was probably time to lose that one anyway or it wouldn’t have come out so easily. And all was made well by the promise of a visit from the tooth fairy later that night.**

All in all, we’ve come out o.k., but I’m dreaming of a vacation. Anyone want a house guest?

*Tom doesn’t quite get the finer points of this celebratory move he’s seen so many athletes execute without harm to either party. I think it’s key that the other fellow have some clue that you’re about to chest bump him rather than being bent over putting on his underwear, but that’s just me.

**”Do you have anything less than a $5? That’s all I’ve got.” –No, just give him that. There was trauma involved.

As I was saying, the first one went well, and I was lulled into allowing “Just one more” before the jammies went on. I briefly left Maw Maw in charge of round two of puzzle time, only to have my nerves jangled mere moments later by the sound of screaming. Here’s how Linda remembers it:

Tom, an acknowledged puzzle savant, had rapidly put together roughly 9/10 of the rocket ship picture, leaving Will holding the lone remaining piece.

Maw Maw: O.k., Tom. Now let Will put in his piece.

Tom: No!!! I wanna do it.

Will: No! Me!

Tom lunges for the prized “Last Piece”, but Will is wiley and quick. A last minute barrel roll leaves him on his feet and poised for flight.

“Run, Will! Run!!!” Jack yells in encouragement.

Will sprints around the floor-sized puzzle searching for an opening. Tom counters by throwing himself prone across the entire thing, successfully blocking Will’s attempt to outflank him. Maw Maw drags a struggling Tom to a seemingly safe distance, allowing Will the window of opportunity he needs to triumphantly slam the final piece into place.

Thinking the danger has passed, Maw Maw loosens her grip and an enraged Tom breaks free. Once again he descends on the puzzle, this time to violently scatter the entire mess across the living room.

The resulting cries of outrage and horror summon me at a dead sprint. Tears were dried, punishment was quickly administered, and bedtime was immediately declared.

And that, my friends, is why you don’t see a whole lot of parenting advice on The Drunch these days. If I ever do get it all figured out, I promise you’ll be the first to know.

“Boot, son,” I corrected, simultaneously extracting Will’s fork from his hair. “Woody says, ‘There’s a snake in my boot.” *

“Oh,” Sam said, sounding disappointed. Suddenly brightening, he shouted, “There’s a snake in my bootie!” to the delight of his giggling brothers.

I give up.

*Toy Story reference. If you haven’t seen the third installment, stop what you’re doing in and get to a theater ASAP.