Lazy - Part 1

I’m a lazy parent.

There, I said it.

Its cathartic to admit, actually. I’m a lazy parent. I’m a lazy parent. I’m a lazy parent!! You can say it so many different ways, and yet it always has a lovely ring to it. I’m a laaaazy parent!

Before I go on I should clarify: I'm not lazy in the general manner of speaking. Its not like I’m laying around the house, yelling at Avery to get her own damn milk while willfully ignoring the request of Mason for a diaper change. Things get done, things are taken care of, and most nights I go to bed tired but content with the day’s work.

What I mean by “lazy” when it comes to parenting is that there are certain jobs to be done that just make me go “Uggggggggghhhhhhh”. These jobs are often minor in the grand scheme of things, but for some reason I’m loathe to do with all my heart and soul. Currently on my radar:

Safely securing my children in the car – Lord, how I wish we were back in the ‘70s whenever this task comes up (and not just because I think I could really rock some feathered hair and paisley slacks). Our parents never knew how good they had it. The mere thought of simply tossing Mace into the backseat and sliding into the front with Avery in my arms makes me shudder with pleasure. Instead, I’m forced to strap a screaming baby into her infant seat, lug it out to the car while carefully maneuvering my way over trucks, bikes and other garage riff-raff, and use herculean effort to heft it into the back. And then … oh yay! Another kid! Now I get to hoist a 32+lb toddler into his seat, and buckle him in while he’s moaning “It too tight mommmmmm! Between my legs! It too tiiiiiggggghhhhht!”, as Avery continues to damage anyone within 50 feet’s ear drums with her bawling antics. Yay! When can I do this again!! Oh wonderful …. every.single.time.I.need.to.go.anywhere.for.anything. Wicked.

Properly outfitting my children for cold weather – Boots, hats, mitts, jackets, scarves … when its winter in my part of Canada, chances are good these items are standard gear for everyday trips to anywhere. One does not know the true meaning of frustration until one has tried teaching a 2 year old to fit their thumb into that thumb-flap part of a mitten. And of course, the kid can’t be ok with the idea of not having it in the flap. “Nope, didn’t get it mom! Try again!” he/she encourages cheerfully after you botch your 23rd attempt. If only they could invent some sort of full-body cold-protector that toddlers just step into, I wouldn’t want to kill myself every time we have to go somewhere.

Making Mason’s bed - I was so proud when my baby boy recently switched from a crib to a double bed. I lovingly selected new sheets, pillows and a comforter for him, and excitedly took pictures his first night sleeping in it.

And then, the very next morning, I realized what a pain in the ass having to make his bed every single day would be.
  
Don’t even consider the fact that the child has to bring an apparent boxful of teeny tiny toys into his bed each night (that consequently have to be carefully picked out each morning). Or the fact that the designer in me had to have a matching green quilt to lay on the foot of the bed (that consequently has to be refolded and replaced into position each morning). How about just the simple fact that the bedrail and wall make sheet-and-comforter-tucking-in into an Olympic-level sporting event, complete with sweat, tears, and occasional drug use? Oh, to go back to the days of bi-yearly crib sheet changes.

So thats me ... what about you? What parental duties bring out your lazy?

{Join me for Lazy – Part 2 tomorrow (or, you know, whenever I get around to it) when I regale you with the two forthcoming events that the lazy mama in me has been dreading for months. Ooooo, bet you’re in suspense now!}

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