We returned from our month-long sojourn in the Midwest to discover . . . well, many things, some involving the cat’s digestive system, others involving the Mister’s noncompliance with the to-do list I left him, but most important, I came home to discover that Parenting Magazine has folded, but Parents Magazine is happy to welcome me into its fold. It kind of reminded me of when Cookie Magazine folded and Lucky Magazine opened its slick, perfume-y, ad-laden pages to me. Or when Everyday Food folded and well, I was out of luck on that one.
I was prepared to resent Parents because it presumed to take the place of Parenting in my heart. Granted, it was a low place, but sometimes there were good recipes. The urgent emphasis on how hip, techy, and date-nighty we should all be as parents wore thin for me. But I think it was more my problem than theirs. After all, I read Working Mother and sneer “What are you complaining about? You have a job.”
But that’s my problem. Anyway, there I was reading Parents because I feel compelled to read *every* magazine that might have a recipe — nay, THE recipe that will change our dinners forever and have my family all eating the same thing at the same time. (Note: If you possess this recipe, please provide link. I will pay good money.) I haven’t finished the magazine yet, but I did find this.
And it did lessen my guilt somewhat. As a stay at home mom of two, on a very limited budget, I often feel that all I can give these kids is my time and attention, and I should be giving as much of these as I can, because this, after all, what I am staying home to do. (Mind you, this doesn’t mean that I’m actually doing that all day, every day, it’s just what I think I should be doing. Inadequacy and guilt win again!)
But lately, as the boys are getting older, sometimes they seem fine to just play with each other. I don’t need to call the tune all the time. It wouldn’t kill them to see me read a book once in a while, or finish Parents magazine. Maybe I could update my blog. Or my other blog. Some day I might say “Y’know, I’m kind of tired of Dinosaur Train. How about we watch Prime Suspect?” After all, I’ve already drafted them to play for my “SuperAwesomeBigBoyCleaningupTeam!” If they get good enough for the regular season (i.e. manage to clear a path through the apartment), we’d have more open time: open time when I could blog while the lads jump on the bed in a game they like to call “Shooting Fish in a Barrel.” Oops. One just launched himself off the bed. Back to your post, Mommy.