Mama Do!

I have a very independent child. When she was only a few months old, I taught her "Mama do!" and said it in response to every task she attempted to do on her own before her time, like making toast.

Now "Mama do" has taken on new meaning. It is a war cry, a soothing "I'll help," and a shout of success when I accomplish something I feel only Mark could have handled.

This morning, I woke up at E's usual wakey time - 4am and couldn't get back to sleep. The joke was on me as it was the first time in about a week that she kept sleeping. I whispered to Mark that I was heading downstairs for a bowl of cereal. (We're staying at his parents' house for Christmas.)

I got myself settled at the kitchen table with a full bowl of Lucky Charms. As I crunched away, I noticed the box in the den containing E's big Christmas present -- a kitchen set. Due to our schedule this year, I had to ask Santa to bring her gifts early. The trade-off was that he wouldn't have time to assemble the kitchen.

I figured Mark would do it, so I wholeheartedly agreed with Santa's suggestion. But here was my chance to get a head start on a little Christmas magic! "Mama do!!" I thought.

I opened the box to find (what looked like) a pre-assembled set. "Easy!" I thought... Then the instructions: Place both feet at base of kitchen and lift. And in small print: Then call your chiropractor.

After the kitchen was snapped in at its highest level and my back practically snapped in half, the next instruction was to attach all the extra shelves and extended counter with screws, but I had no screwdriver. My father-in-law's desk is in the den, so I started my search there. I sat down in his office chair and said, "Dear Lord, please help me find a screwdriver." I started with the top right drawer where you would expect to find pens. What I found instead was a tray filled with about 35 screwdrivers. I looked up at the ceiling like, "Really, big guy?" and added a "Thank you, Jesus!" I picked a pretty blue screwdriver and got to work. Mama do!

First step, strip all the screws. That's how Mama rolls... but I got the shelves secured and proceeded to place the plates, pots, and pans in their proper places. The rest of the dishes went in the sink -- just like at home!

I sat back and admired my handiwork. It was almost time for E to wake up, and I thought I might end up like Henry Fonda's character in Yours, Mine, and Ours when Lucille Ball comes downstairs Christmas morning and finds him in a closet putting together the last of the presents. And I remembered my dad, who built my sister and I a wooden kitchen set one year and spent countless Christmas nights assembling dollhouses, bikes, setting up video game consoles and stereos. I sent him an early morning "I love you so much" text message.

He also was the one who got downright pissed off when something didn't work correctly, was missing batteries, or easily snapped in half.

I always consoled him, my entire life, told him how we could fix it, that it didn't matter, that we could return it. But let me tell you, after 3 months of waiting for this kitchen set, packing it for a road trip to our in-law's, and an hour of assembly, when that gosh darn, freaking door wouldn't close on E's play oven, I wanted to hurt someone. And I had 35 screwdrivers within reach to do so.

But my can-do, Mama-do attitude came to the rescue. I used a piece of duct tape on the latch to create a little more resistance and keep the door closed.

And in the end, it really didn't matter. E was much more content playing with her bouncy balls than the kitchen set, and I was okay with that.

I love being her mommy, and I loved creating some special Christmas moments for her. On to the next!