30 Amazing Minutes

Sometimes that's all you need.  All you need to regroup, feel good, get focused, and calm down a crazy three year old that hasn't seen you all day.

I work Tuesday's and Thursday's and Georgia is a maniac when I get home.  My sitter Kate always laughs when I come through the door and the universe twists the crank on the jack-in-the-box that is Georgia one last time and she comes popping out of her box like a lunatic that has been caged all day.  Kate swears that she is calm and quiet and sweet all day and the minute she hears the garage open all hell breaks loose.  And I believe her.  I experience it on the days I don't work and daddy walks through the door.  It's like this realization that 'mommy hasn't been here all day and we need to make up for it' hits her.  She wants to run around shrieking, dumping out toys, rolling on the floor, and just generally acting like a maniac.

It's really relaxing to come home to.

And, I'll confess......I frequently turn on a show at these moments as an antidote to her insanity.  I know it's not really what she wants--she wants my attention--but I'm just too spent sometimes to bring her down with what she really wants--mommy time--and instead rely on Doc. McStuffins to work her magic.

And then things resume as they should and the house is peaceful and in working order.

But today, I wanted to make sure Georgia knew I was excited to see her.  As excited as she always is to see me.  I knew that if I gave her an amazing half hour of mom time it'd probably do the trick as well better than the good old stuffed animal doctor.  I'm talking a full half hour of completely focused Georgia time, in her room, with her toys; not me squeezing in five minutes of play in between getting dinner on the stove, a load of laundry in, sorting through the mail, or picking up my room.  A half hour of solid play can sometimes feel like a year.  If you're a mom and you deny that, I have one word for you.  Liar.

Playing outside--no problem for me.  Letting Georgia turn a twenty minute grocery shopping trip into a three hour archaeological dig--easy and enjoyable.  Teaching her how to do a project--sign me up any day. But playing vet, or baby, or Wizard of Oz--any more than fifteen minutes straight with no interruptions and I turn into the jack-in-the-box.

But today I was going to do it.  When I asked her what she wanted to do she responded, "Make-up and bows!"

Jack-pot.  I have been waiting for years for someone to put make-up on me and play with my hair.  My sister can vouch for me.  I still ask her to comb my hair whenever we're together. I don't care if I end up looking like Lada Gaga when she wore a meat dress to the VMA's--when Georgia wants to play hair and make-up I'm in.  I get to lay down and have someone fuss over me and it's just so...........relaxing.  Seriously.  I mean it.  Teach your kids how to put bows in your hair and brush your face with old eyeshadow and powder.  You might even fall asleep.

The point here?  Sometimes, as moms we work ourselves up into this guilt frenzy (and I'm not totally against mom guilt) and we believe that if we haven't planned a veritable carnival in our living room for our kids it's not good enough; they don't feel loved enough and we must be lazy moms.

But really--sometimes thirty amazing minutes of smearing eyeshadow and old powder on your moms cheeks and lips and shoving pink sparkly glitter bows into her hair (that by the way.....Georgia says is blue? super.) will do the trick.  And it's not to say that you can punch the clock for thirty minutes and you're out all the time--it's to say that sometimes..........quality over quantity does what you need it to do for your crazy maniac....and yourself.

So here's a challenge to myself and all you other moms.  Set your timers.  Shut your computers.  Keep your phone in your purse.  Thirty minutes at a time.  Practice makes permanent right?  Pretty soon you'll be playing Wizard of Oz and you'll look at the clock and it will be tomorrow.

Please.

But in the mean-time, arm your kid with a blush brush and let 'em go to town.