I have been tagged by Jodi to participate in the Real Mom meme that has been working it’s way across the Mom circuit.  Basically the rules are this:  Put up a post “Real Moms [insert what you do here]”, followed by an explanation, a picture, and a “Real Moms. Making ….”. Then tag five people.

If you have been reading this blog regularly, you know that I occasionally travel for business.  In an active study, this amounts to about two days on the road every three weeks.  Not a particularly heavy travel burden in the great scheme of things, and significantly less than the position I held with my firm thirteen years ago.  I went through periods back then where I didn’t spend more than three days at a stretch in a single time zone.   But, I also didn’t have a toddler in those days.

After a rocky start, Harry has adjusted to the absences fairly well.   I call him every evening, and I send him emails with pictures and audio from my cell phone.  I bring him back presents from every trip, because I remember my Dad doing that from time to time when he traveled (which was a lot), and I always remember the breathless anticipation of searching his luggage to see what came home for me.

And I have learned to be a morning person.  An omigod-it’s-so-early-the-birds-aren’t-up morning person.  If I catch a 6am flight home, I can clock in at the office upon returning and by noon my reports are filed and I can guiltlessly cut out of the office, pick Harry up from daycare, and have a playday.

Last week it was the Wonder Place.  Harry played with complete abandon for two and a half hours.  If my attention wandered in any way, he quickly recalled his place in the center of my universe with a loud “Mama!  Mama!”   Look at me!  Look at me!   My presence was mainly required as a spectator.  He was the sole orchestrator of his fun.  I was cast in the role of appreciative audience, but a role that was nevertheless absolutely required – in fact, commanded. 

It was a part I was more than happy to play, and I applauded enthusiastically at every appropriate interval (and a few inappropriate ones).  I also acted as both bank and concessionaire, procuring goldfish and juice at intermission.  Even in this marginal role, by the time I ushered him out the door, I was exhausted.  The combination of rising to my alarm at 3am, and maintaining my constant attention had utterly done me in.  I don’t think I have gone to bed before 9pm since I was six years old.  Until now.

But that’s okay.

In balancing the books of time,

 I figure I still owe him a few.

Real Moms, making up for lost time.

As to tagging?  I tag all the non-moms who read my blog.  When was that moment that made your mom a “Real Mom” to you?  Same rules apply.