Not my mother's daughter

I like to think I was an easy child for my mother. I tell her often that I'd love to have a child that was as well behaved and listened as well as I did.

She usually hangs up the phone then. I'm sure its to grab my baby book and reminisce about the glory that came with raising me in her own private manner.

So on Saturday, when my mom said "Want go shoe shopping and out to lunch?" I looked at my 1 year old daughter and knew she'd be angelic. Just like I had been. Of course we'd go.

My mom said she'd be over around 11:30. So at 11:30 we were ready. And my precious daughter politely yelled for the door - she wanted outside. Fine. We stood in the driveway for 10 minutes while she hollared for her dad (who had gone to work for the afternoon). Its great how much she loves him.

We got in the car, drove 5 minutes downtown, and as we opened her door to let her out of the backseat she smiled, opened her mouth, and puked. My mother jumped back - HER daughter had NEVER done anything like this. I sighed. Time to fess up: I'm not raising my mother's daughter.

"What happened!?"
"She puked!"
"Now what? You want to go home?"
"No. She needs shoes and I want lunch. I'll change her outfit."
"Here!? In this parking lot?"
"Yes, hold her coat."

And I did it. Calmly, I cleaned the raisin filled puke, thankful she'd kept it mostly on her dress, and reached into her diaper bag for another outfit (I always have 1-2 on me - this isn't the first time I've changed her in a parking lot if you recall my Feb 2011 post). She dropped her binky on the ground and while the nipple didn't hit the ground, in true second child form I popped it into my head to "clean it", only to have to announce to my mother:

"This thing is covered in snot, gross."

My mother gagged. And we went into the store.

My daughter screamed the entire time we were in the store. Until finally, my mother asked her what she wanted. And thanks to that sign-language from her daycare she glared at her grandmother and signed "FOOD."

My mother looked at me and I calmly informed her that at OUR house, it would take more than a little vomit and ingested snot to get us to turn down the promised free lunch. We headed to the car, drove the restaurant, got out and felt my girl start to gag.

"Mom, back up - she's going again." Clearly - her VERY runny nose/cold was upsetting her tummy a bit. I leaned her over to save us from changing in ANOTHER parking lot, my mother stood in awe, and when she was done we headed in.

"That's it? She's just ok now?"
"It's puke mom. My kids are pukers. She's fine - but probably hungry"
"My girls were never pukers...I'm so glad."

I bet you were, mom. We made it in for lunch and it took my girl nearly an hour to eat 1 chicken finger and a handful of fries. She was too busy coloring, signing, chattering, and playing games with her grandma. She sweetly signed "please", and asked for "more food". She asked for a cup, then expressed she'd wanted "milk" and not water. Not with screaming but with her carefully executed signs and a couple rough babbles (she's only 15 months afterall!)

"Now THAT is cool. My girls never did that," my mom was pretty impressed with what she could do.

Definitely not raisng my mother's daughter, but that's not all bad either.