Mom Goggles

Just like my house, my kids show better in the dark.   This morning as I gave my 6 year old son his 5th stalling kiss goodbye at the drop off line, I noticed a red substance encrusted on his cheek.  "What did you have for breakfast?" I asked. "Mini Wheats" he responded.  Then I remembered that he had a dinner of ketchup the night before.  I swear he took a bath last night, or was that the night before?
My next son approached and looked like his clothes had been in the bottom of a silo for the past decade.  The only one who was not crusty, stained and wrinkled was my oldest.
He was breathing in my face to show me how minty fresh his breath was. According to the grapevine, he has his first crush. This news slapped me in the face the other day and woke me up to the fact that he is no longer a baby but a tween.
I think I view my sons with Mom goggles.  I see what I want, until the light shines and exposes imperfections.   There are times I choose to ignore things.  Like the fact that Jack, despite being in first grade, likes to discuss boobies.  Or that none of the boys are stellar athletes (at least not yet).  Or that they all like Selena Gomez.
I had a weird ass day yesterday.  It began with my alarm not going off, which caused me to sleep "in" until 6.  This simple malfunction caused confusion and delay.   I kept asking Don what day it was.  What are we doing today? It was Thursday, obviously, the same thing we do every day. Work. School. Eat.
That extra hour slipped me into a coma and when I woke up, I was shocked to have a husband, kids and a job. I was looking at my house with non-mom goggles and it was not pretty.
I had about 3 minutest to get ready for work. I looked in the mirror.  Oh. My. Gawd.  Why do I have a big huge zit on my chin?  Oh that's right, I heard that putting avocado oil on my face was better than any store bought moisturizer according to some 23 year old organic goddess I watched on YouTube.  Maybe I will have my monster zit take a selfie of itself and send it to her, to thank her for that.
Once I dropped off everyone I felt like a robot with my zit operating as my North Star as it navigated me to my office.  Within moments I felt something bite me.  I looked to the source of the pain, and nothing is there but a small red dot.  As I tried for the next 5 minutes to itch and type I glanced down again and it was the size of a quarter.   At the copier I told my boss that I had been bit by a bug.  "On your chin?" he asks.  Damn zit.
No, right here. I show him and he immediately sends me to the wellness center.  An hour later, I am back in my office with an ice pack, a mountain of paperwork and an incident report to fill out and fax back.

I felt like Forrest Gump. "Something BIT ME?!" Not only that, I was given strict orders to be on "light duty".  But I had to wonder, how is that different than any other day?

The upside of this was that I was given benedryl which has a similar effect as marijuana on me. Not that I would know of course.  So the rest of the day was spent stoned.   The good news, is that I know Arabesque is my favorite screen saver. And has a much deeper meaning than most would expect.

In an effort to not get brainwashed by my screen saver I opted for some office coffee. Usually I would walk 100 feet to the campus Starbucks, but because I was on strict doctor's orders, I walked across the hall with my new mug. A fabulous friend gave it to me. 

I like to twerk. Don't hate.

 I settled back in to staring at my Arabesque screen saver and drinking my Folgers. I was awakened by a distinguished professor who came in to asked me a few questions. Ugh, work.   I was answering yes to everything until she asked me what a twerk was.   That woke me up.   She isn't exactly up on current events obviously.
I tried to dodge the question, with something along the lines of "What?"And secondly, why was she asking me this, did word of my twerking get out?  She pointed to my mug.
I explained that it was a kind of dance. (Pole optional)  Being an academic, she was seeking a concrete answer and was not going to let this go.
"Is it done as a couple?" 
"No, well, it could, it is a trend right now."
"I read something in the NYT about it. but I can't picture it"
In an effort to end this conversation I asked her,
"Do you know who Miley Cyrus is?"
"Who?"
At this point I just want to get back to my light duty screen saver monitoring.
"She kind of made it popular recently"
"Is it sexual in nature?"
Why can't she just let it die?  She is twerk pusher.  I like to twerk in the privacy of my own kitchen. Please don't push me to show you, especially since I am stoned and on light duty.
 "Yes, but I am not going to show you". 
"Well, ok, I guess I could always google it.".

Finally, a good idea!  I wish I was there to witness her reaction when she googled twerk. I'm sure she thinks differently of me now.

The scary thing is, to get her out of my office, I was just about to show her. God working miracles right there.

At the end of the day I discovered that I was viewing myself through the very mom-goggles that I see the boys.  I kind of liked what I saw.  
I wasn't judging myself, I was taking each moment as it came.  I was relaxed and confident in my convictions.   Granted, I wasn't doing anything, but it felt good for a change.  I may even try it again, this time Benedryl optional.