Vacation is Over, Final Notes

All is quiet. Amelia just started sleeping in the same room with her brother. Of course he worries she'll cry and wake him up. I worry about that too, because he's into long Sesame Street stories, and I can't bear to read another one until well after dawn. I had an Other Mother experience in San Diego over the weekend. Owen's diaper was off, but he kept his signature bright orange shirt on so I could see him from a pretty far distance. Becca had gone back across the street to the hotel for I don't know what, and Amelia was crying. So I was holding her. I know my son, he's not going to run into the street, unlike his sister, who is a lunatic when it comes to danger. I know within 5 seconds I can get to him. But then the people want to ask him where his Mama is. Mama is across the street doing whatever. Nobody thinks, he must have a SECOND parent in charge. That would be me. Maybe every parent gets the judgy rundown from beach patrol cops who think the mostly naked three year old is too far away from me on the beach. But the last thing I need is trouble from authority figures on ATVs.

I scoop him up and I'm outta there. But the whole thing left with this unmistakeble fear - not of my competence, but of the perception of competence. Meanwhile some random woman was scolding her daughter for leaving her behind to play with other kids, "Don't you LOVE me?"

Hey, we're all just doing the best we can, trying to learn from our mistakes, trying not to make the most egregious ones. And it stands to reason that most kids come out the way they're supposed to - standing on their own feet with their own psychological and spiritual shit to dig at. I only hope mine get a part-time job ASAP, because I'm sure we can't afford the therapy.