TYPE A Begone.


Let me set the scene:  I was meeting a good friend in the park with her baby who is a few days older than Zachary.  It was lunch time for both kiddos, so I packed a lunch:  banana in a ziplock to keep out the brown of course (type A reference #1), food pouch, grapes cute up (type A reference #2), yogi snacks portioned out (type A reference #3).  My diaper bag was also set:  sample pack wipes and diapers in their respective pockets (type A reference #4), hand sanitizer the the most easily accessible outer pocket (type A reference #5).  And looking as cute as ever.  Both Zachary and myself of course. I mean, we were going to Rittenhouse, prime Philadelphia real estate 🙂  ANYWAY, setting the scene.  Blanket spread out, kiddos on the blanket playing with toys, sunlight poking through the trees.  Magnificent Day.  It is lunch time.  Zachy has to get back for his nap time at 2 (type A reference #6).  We get our impeccably packed lunch out.  I give Zach his banana, which he insists on holding it (normally I like to hold it-type A reference #7) and within minutes, I am covered.  He is covered.  The blanket is covered. I panic.  I think to myself “UGHHHHH disgusting…..”  And then quickly recover, “I NEEEED to learn how to let this go, to accept that I am going to have to change both his and my clothing several times a day, invest in wipes, or call it a day.  I NEED to let go of this TYPE A-ness.”  Snap back to reality.  My friend is cracking up at me; I am trying to wash the banana off of my black leggings; banana shows greatly on black leggings, and each time the banana gets replaced (by Zach) right back to where I had initially washed it off.  Seriously, this type A thing needs to go, and my friend openly made a comment about it.  Laughing, she said “no more type a for you!”  She is SO right.  So I am trying.  I mean look at the pictures from Zachary’s dinner yesterday!  I was turning over a new leaf (and breathing through it)…

photo 3

photo 2

Peanut butter. IN. HIS. HAIR.

photo 4

“EW” Says my type A self

I mean truly, the fact is that if he is happy, that is ALL that matters.  Um…and he clearly appears to be so.

photo 1

The rest will get cleaned up. I mean I really need to get used to this as a mother of a boy, for real!   And my clothing will be clean…in 18 years 🙂

3 thoughts on “TYPE A Begone.

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