Everyone is Good at Something...Right?

My oldest daughter can jump rope…..backwards. I can’t manage to employ those eyeballs I’m supposed to have in the back of my head.

My middle daughter can whistle nursery rhymes. I am practicing making their punishments rhyme.

Roses are Red
Violets are Blue
Who’s never leaving their room again for as long as they live under this roof by these rules while showing respect and consideration for everyone else who resides in this house and whom we call family?
You.

My oldest son can repeat every word uttered by “heehee - she’s preeetty – heehee” Gabriella in High school Musical. On a bright, sunny spring morning after an invigorating 2 mile run, with sweat glistening under my oddly-bunched nursing pads, with my head thrown back draining an ice cold Aquafina water bottle, overcome with endorphins and the muffled sounds of hungry children and impatient dad escaping through the walls of our home, I can almost remember high school. Though, the musical accompaniment in my memory is more of a sad, dreary, ballad lacking the bouncy, giggly, squeals of young bliss.

My youngest daughter can beckon all the dogs of the neighborhood with one screaming tantrum. My screams go unanswered. My tantrums, ignored.

My newborn can…..sleep. I’m a mom.