A few years ago, my friend W swore that she was done having kids.  DONE! Closing up shop!

She was thrilled to announce that her husband had set up an appointment for the great snippity-snippity.  It wasn’t too many weeks following that declaration that she stopped by me in carline at school, with the most disgusted look on her face and said, “I’m pregnant.”  I saw how distressed she was, knew how much she did not want to have another baby and in my utmost sensitive manner….CRACKED right up!  Yes, that’s me, the Great Comforter.

I sat with my two kids in the car and chuckled all the way home.  I did feel bad for a while, especially as it took her a while to get over the irony of her husband knocking her up just days before his surgery….I do remember her muttering something along the lines of “….stupid, panicked, baby-makers”.  Eventually, she was a bubbly ball of prego-goodness.  And I was still giggling under my breath.

Until I ended up pregnant.  And she nearly had an aneurysm laughing over my karmic slap-down.   Since that day, I’ve made an effort not to take too long laughing when things happen to my friends, especially stuff they don’t find funny at the time.  I can’t help it some times.  And I ALWAYS get smacked down for it in the end run.

Yesterday I had a good little laugh at my friend Natalie’s latest post which was this whole thing about putting a stamp on a letter, getting distracted and then not being able to find the stamps for the second letter…they ended up being in the cabinet with the cups.  I’ve been there, I know how under normal circumstances that’s annoying….when you have a sick child, your ability to cope with the least little glitch in the norm is stretched beyond comprehension…it’s catastrophic in epic proportions.  I felt bad, but it didn’t stop me from my little blurp of laughter.  But I can do that! I too am stretched! I have done that! I found a softball in my freezer for the love of Joe.  

I can laugh, right!?

Apparently not.

We had a long clinic visit as we were hanging out with a friend who had their first appointment and it was anxiety-filled and we were there to show that the finger poke process wasn’t bad at our clinic.  But what it did was cause a chitter chatter distraction and I kid you not, I was one foot out the door…ready to go…keys in my hand…before  it dawned on me what I was about to do.

I forgot Nathaniel in the waiting room. 

Yes, I did.  I walked out of the room, down the hall and darn near out the exit without remembering to go tell my son we were leaving.  My only redeeming moment was that I did manage to make it sound like it was totally HIS fault with my, “Yo, dude, are you coming or not?”

I’m clearing up a spot on the wall to hang my “Most Amazing Mom of the Millennium” plaque.

In fact, I’m sooooo goooood at being a mother that I got to have THIS conversation with Peyton.

“Mommy! Your bedroom looks really different and clean.”

“Yes, that’s because I picked up all the laundry and took it out to be washed.” 

Long pause, tilt of the head while processing that and a wrinkle of nose. 

“ For really?”

“Yes, for really.”

“Wow.” Breathed in a tone saved for those people who have to cut off their own limbs to extract themselves from a life-threatening accident…because I finally did laundry.

Yessir, that plaque will be here any time now.