Mommy, M.D.

I'm not referring to my medical degree. I mean the Mommy Degree. At what point do I get my diploma? Don't some universities grant honorary degrees to noted individuals for extensive experience in a particular field? I want my degree. I've been a student most of my life (from 5 to 26, and took my last test just last month when I sat for my boards). I work for credit hours, test scores, and diplomas. I want credit for all of this! What I mean is, in my 2 years of Mommy'ing I already have more marketing experience than any undergrad business major. I spend more hours a day negotiating than any J.D. I write more songs than any one with a fine arts degree. And I heal more booboos a day than a paramedic does in a month.

Marketing... I can't even count the number of sales pitches I throw in a day. Everything must be "sold" to my 2 1/2 foot tall skeptical consumer. "Jonathan, would you like a snack?" Toddler responds with screaming, crying, falling on the floor and grieving like a minor prophet wailing in sack cloth, or as though I'd announced it was time for the daily flogginng. "No... you don't want to eat snack? Okay, well, your backhoe loader is going to sit with me at the table. If you'd like to join us, your milk and carrots are here, too. I put some salt on your yummy carrots (carrots are a favorite, it's not like I'm giving the kid raw spinach for snack). Would you like a little butter on them, too? Do you want to taste? ... Yes, of course you can have a sample. Well, the rest are here at the table on your plate. Do you want to climb into your chair by yourself or do you want me to help you? Yes, the backhoe loader can sit in your lap while you eat your carrots." There's a reason they have people standing outside the Chinese restaurant with samples of teriyaki chicken at the food court and a reason the formula companies mail you a free can of formula when your baby's born... samples work!

Negotiations... I don't know who at the White House answers the phone when terrorists call with demands (because thank Goodness there isn't yet a Government course for the mommy degree yet , so the majority of my understanding of our Government comes from the TV show 24. I did take Government in 11th grade, but it was after lunch and I was sleepy). Anyways, whoever it is that is in charge of terrorist negotiations (I do know that their primary job is to say "We don't negotiate with terrorists")... if that person is not a Mom, then the government could do better. I spend all day maintaining control of my household from a 30 pound toddler terrorist (an adorable lovable one, but still... the little guy could wreck as much havoc in a home as any terrorist). After hearing Jonathan giving orders one evening, "Mommy sit here. Daddy don't do that. Mommy don't sing that song. Mommy put Baby Abby in her bed," David taught Jonathan to say, "I'm a toddler dictator." The Mom in me thinks, "What is his preschool teacher going to think if she hears him say that???" but it was funny at the moment. That evening we established that Mommy doesn't sit where Jonathan decides, that Daddy doesn't do everything Jonathan asks, that Mommy is allowed to sing if she likes, and that Baby Abby will go to bed when it's her bedtime. ... all while allowing Jonathan enough choices and decisions to give him some degree of control, attempting to avoid major meltdowns. "Do you want bubbles in your bath or no bubbles? Do you want the towel on your head or your shoulders? Do you want to wear red jammies or blue jammies? Is Monkey going to sit in your lap or beside you for story time?"

Fine arts... Moms can turn the outline of a hand into just about any animal and can see the "picture" in any smear of finger paint. I write more songs a day (can't say they're quality, but they're novel) than anyone but a Mom... "I'm brushing off the cake, I'm brushing off the cake, Brush brush brush your teeth, I'm brushing off the cake." And my favorite for maintaining Mommy sanity during toddler tantrums, "I love you when you're happy, I love you when you're sad, I love you when you're silly and I love you when you're mad!..."

Physical Education... I've always said putting pajamas on a toddler should be a rodeo event. It requires far more agility and much quicker reflexes than hog tying. I recently suffered a bust lip that turned black for a week from a little head-butt maneuver the two year old pulled while I wrestled a shirt over his head. I'm impressed no one pulled me aside to ask if I'm safe at home! That's just the bonus round. The rest of the day is a series of bicep curls, lifting a 30 pound toddler in and out of car seats, strollers, booster seats, the bath tub, etc.

Not to mention psychiatry. Most parents read more books in the first few years, looking for a glimmer of direction, than any undergrad reads in their 4 years. David's most recent focus in this subject is reverse psychiatry. "Jonathan, can I have your broccoli? ... Oooh, you want it? Oooh, okay. ... Jonathan, can I have your carrots?"

And this is only 2 years into parenting. This is way more of an education than I got from Trinity or Baylor. Then I hear by the time we're done with this gig I have to re-learn all of American history, world history, spelling, geography, and geometry. So, let me know when my diploma's ready to pick up. I don't mind waiting a few years, but I want credit for this!