Behind the curve

Sorry again for the dry spell, everyone. The good news is, I am officially re-employed!, ergo I should have more time to update the blog. In an odd-but-welcome turn of events, my old company called me literally three weeks to the day from the date I'd been laid off, informed me that another person from the department had resigned, and asked if I would come back. My negative feelings about being laid off in the first place wrestled with my pride at being the #1 person they wanted to bring back, but ultimately it came down to one simple truth: Molly and Ann need to eat, and I'm fond of it on occasion myself. I started exactly one week later, meaning my one week vacation essentially became a five week vacation (if you call sitting on the couch searching want ads a vacation, I suppose), and so far so good. Thanks to everyone for your good thoughts and prayers on my behalf!

The second item on our agenda is my growing suspicion about Ann. As I think I've mentioned before, we've had numerous... let's call them discussions, both long before and after Molly was born, on the subject of athletics. Ann grew up with parents who didn't push her toward organized sports, which is good because she hated them. (The sports, not her parents.) She doesn't dislike sports on principle, but would much prefer that Molly remain at the casual, intramural level if she does them, and would be fine if she chooses not to. I grew up with extremely athletic parents who raised my sister and I to be athletic as well. I did organized sports from the time I was 6 until I graduated college, spent literally thousands upon thousands of hours in the pool training, and sacrificed partying, drinking, and much of the usual college bacchanalia to commit to swimming. (I say that neither with regret nor self-aggrandizement, just as a matter of fact. It's not for everyone.) Because of this, Ann has voiced the opinion numerous times that I won't know what to do with Molly if she doesn't like sports, and her concern that I won't be able to accept it and will push Molly into athletics against her will. I won't (she'll do something to stay in shape, but it doesn't strictly have to be organized sports), but that's Ann's fear.

So you can imagine my amusement the other day when Ann called me to complain about another girl in Molly's day care class. This little girl is three days younger than Molly, but is already able to grab onto people and pull herself up to a standing position, as well as to cruise around by grabbing onto couches, chairs, etc. Oh, and she has two teeth already, to Molly's none. Ann was irate about this kid -- I believe the term "freak of nature" was used more than once -- and I came home that night to find Molly having just learned to grab Ann's arms and pull herself up to stand. God knows how long they'd been practicing... I checked Molly's back for switch marks and didn't find any, but it's entirely possible she didn't get any formula until she learned how to do it. (I kid, Ann would never deprive our child of necessary meals as a learning incentive. Dessert maybe, but not a main course.) Now, I happen to find the whole thing amusing -- mostly because Molly's not actually behind the curve, this other kid just happens to be extremely far ahead of it -- but you can't tell me you don't see the irony of stage mom over here warning me off of overathleticizing our child while simultaneously losing her cool over the fact that Molly can't quite keep up with superbaby just yet. I tell you, moms are funny creatures.