by Donna Dunn
I am a rock star.
Iíve never been one before, but now that I live with two preschoolers, I know what itís like to be totally adored. To have them rush me when I come in the door from an errand. To have them shout my name the moment they see me at the door Ė ďMommy!!!!!Ē
How very exciting.
I never expected this. I mean, before I had children I thought my children would love me. I thought they would be glad to see me. I had no idea how cool it would be to be so loved.
Of course, the rock star life of the mother of a preschooler isnít generally all that glamorous. There are a lot of tissues wiping runny noses and food on the floor and laundry, laundry, laundry. So when Iím feeling a little overwhelmed, I have to remember that I am a rock star. I mean I have to really, really try hard to remember.
I told my mother-in-law recently that this rock star status was an unexpected blessing in having children. She told me to enjoy it now. Pretty soon, theyíll think Iím the stupidest person they ever met.
I told my husband about this conversation and he said that my kids would never think Iím stupid. But probably around middle school theyíll start to think I am sort of clueless, out of touch.
So maybe runny noses, food on the floor and laundry, laundry, laundry arenít so bad after all.
Iíll have to think about it later. My adoring public ó of two ó is calling. Itís good to be a rock star.