My Idol

I have found that when you become a parent you learn a lot about what you are good at and even more about what you're not. Basically your faults become blatantly obvious.

This isn't too much of a surprise, but I'm a type A, clean freak, with low tolerance, and a get it done quick kind of attitude. Just the kind of person that makes the world worst parent. Now I'm not fishing for a "ah come on you're a great mommy" statement. I know that there are some things I'm really good at. Some days I would even give myself a small good mommy star. But I think it's good to realize "hey I need work". Luckily I have my idol and role model living under the same roof. Yep, my husband.

Rick happens to be a teacher by trade, photographer and woodworker on the side (amongst other skills), and well a generally interesting person. With all his projects, kids included, he takes the right approach, understands the problem, works to find the solution, and just generally does it right. Now some may find it irritating to have this naturally talented fella walking around. And yes, I'll admit sometimes when you're feeling bad about yourself, the glow of greatness moving through the halls doesn't warm, but stings a little. However, how fabulously lucky am I to have this person as my partner in crime in parenting. Where I fail he shines. When I think "how could I have done that differently", he answers by showing. So I consider myself pretty lucky.

I know I'm a project but how great to have the teacher nearby.

The Next American Idol Winner Is...

Since American Idol is starting tonight this seems an appropriate blog topic. I started to realize the other day that my baby gets the biggest smile on her face when I sing. In fact, when I yell at the kids, scream "dinner is ready", or read a book; she is all smiles.

I love that my voice is the sweetest thing to her. Maybe it's because she associates it with being fed or comforted. But whatever it is, it's a nice feeling. Beats the eye rolling, shrugging, walking away that often follows the airing of my voice. She's not old enough to hate the sound of my voice yet. She's not on to the fact that my voice doesn't always mean fun times are about to ensue. She doesn't realize that even the shower judges would kick me off the first week. Passion and volume are there, but pitch and tone went down the drain. All she knows is Mom is talking and Mom equals love. Such a simple equation, but one that right around 2-2.5 years old they tend to forget. One of my favorite memories in fact is my oldest walking down the hall with my (then) baby and saying, "just keep walking, you don't have to listen to her". Uh yeah, one for the record books.

But until that time comes, I'm going to cherish the fact that she thinks my voice is worthy of winning The Next American Idol.