I had a home visit with Muffin's teachers today. I'm sitting here listening to them tell me how great she is and what a good mama I am, and all I can think is what a fucking crock. She isn't even 3 and she is raising herself. Maybe Nonna is raising her. Daddy too, but me? No, no, no lady, you got this all wrong....
I may be her mama, I may be the spokeswoman for Little Miss MuffinCake, but you're giving me too much credit. Yes I birthed her and nursed her and take her to all her appointments and social events, but I feel like I'm failing my youngest baby. She walked at 9 months, something it took Nonna 12 to do. She potty trained with no problems what so ever and minimal accidents that were really my fault due to timing and my own laziness. I had to threaten, cajole, and outwit Nonna into pooping on the pot. She talks better than most little kids her age is excelling socially with her little classmates, everyone loves her.
I love her so much. She is me. I am she. I've never known such an old soul in such a tiny body. She came out just knowing the ways of the world. Maybe its because she's the second born and has had so much time around that old Nonna that has her so advanced by my mama standards. It's just that everything from weaning to sleep schedules to teething to potty training has all been a muffin cake walk compared to the outwit outlast outplay game of motherdom survival I've had to partake in raising Nonna.
I used to have to hide from Nonna to get her to go to sleep when we were living with my brother in the little room we shared. She used to come into my bed when we got our own place, just the two of us and refuse to leave. Because of all the crazy swing to graveyard turnaround shifts I did when Nonna was littler, she has the night time hours of a college frat. She'll be the one opening the door for armed robbers because she heard them picking the lock while she was sneaking around my house in the middle of the night looking for shit to get into and something good on TV. I still have to tell her good night 99 times and yell to make her stay in bed and go to sleep. Muffin? She goes down and stays down, no problem. She unlike her sister, never had to go to a sitter though. Daddy was home and Muffin was never woken up in the middle of the night to get buckled in a car seat to ride home and get put back to bed. Just Nonna.
She was almost 4 before she was done with a cup, and that was only because my best bitch came over and very dramatically "stole" all of Nonna's cups for some new baby. She still tries to talk me into letting her sleep with one on some nights, and she'll be 6 in July. Nonna was and is the hardest thing I've ever slammed my head repeatedly into with no avail. God I love her mean ass. And she talks to and looks over Muff like she's her mama and not me. I don't know how many times I've caught myself screaming at the top of my lungs, "DON'T yell at my baby! I'm her damned mama not you little girl!"
Maybe I have just been doing such a thorough and bang up job raising Nonna to be the self sufficient-free thinking-no shit takin-order barking-never sleeping little road dog she is, that now she knows all there is to know about telling her little sister how to get in where she fits in. Mama runs a tight ship. I'm a despot. I enjoy it. But my guilt is eating away at me that I am failing my kids. I try to teach them the shit my mom taught me, I love them with all I got. But how come their early accomplishments, especially Muffins make me feel so bad. She's just easier, I guess. God must've put enough shit for me into Nonna, I had to give her a pass not too long ago. I decided that its just in her genetic make up to fuck with me, and keep Muffin in line.
So while her teachers try to pump me up about what a good mom I am and they tell me how to transition my Muffin to a new school like she's some kind of fragile little cream puff who needs fluffing, I try not to roll my eyes. I'll tell her when its time, and she'll be ready. She Miss Muffincake. She a motherfucking beast. She don't need no head start, she's got this in the bag. I'm just hanging on to her little feet to keep her grounded. Don't grow up without me Mari.
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