I took the kids to the beach for a couple days over the holiday weekend.
And I noticed something.
Somewhere along the way, I'm not sure precisely when, I dropped my title of Mom to Young Kids.
Which would mean, I suppose, that I am now a Mom to Older Kids.
Now, most of the time, that still means plenty of busy, just a different kind of busy than you have with Littles. There's a lot more chauffeuring, a lot less hiney-wiping. A lot more arguments, just of a different nature. We now argue about texting plans and piercings and Facebook drama, where we used to argue about which sippy cup they wanted and going potty before we got in the car (actually, we still sometimes have that argument).
But on a day like going to the beach? A LOT less work than it used to be.
They packed their own bags. They loaded the car. They packed up the snacks and drinks and towels and sunblock we would need. They all took care of their own means of entertainment, including any chargers needed. Pillows, sleeping bags, pajamas? Check.
Not that I don't miss those days, or look back with fond memories at when we did those things together. But I have earned my time on my throne in the sand.
Of course, now my sister brings her two year old, so I guess I should be doing those things with him.
Nah.... that's what cousins are for.
James kept telling me, yesss, he reapplied sunblock. Jheesh, Mom.
He wound up looking like a burn victim.
And they wonder why my response to their pleas for a trampoline is always a resounding NO.
Oh well. One of these days I'll find the balance...
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