Well, here’s our first day of school picture…three days late.

Let me explain. The twins had a first day of a sort-of preschool last week (also didn’t get a picture). It’s like starter school for three-year-olds. And then on their second day, Jonas pooped. Everybody poops, right?

Apparently not everybody poops at school. Because I got a phone call that maybe just maybe I should keep him home for two weeks and really “knock out” this potty training thing. Clearly, they don’t know my kid. And clearly they don’t know much about potty training if they think keeping him home to think about what he’s done (or not done) while his sister is at school will do the trick. It would be total anarchy on all fronts.

After this phone call, we took a day to re-evaluate our lives and came to the conclusion that our mojo was not jiving with this particular place. Oil and water. Sand and swimsuits. Spinach and teeth. It just wasn’t working.

I had the DTR with the director of the preschool. It wasn’t fun. I hate break-ups. The first serious boyfriend I ever had I broke up with over IM. I know. It probably would have been over text if such a thing had existed back then. I’m not good at confrontation. No matter how upset I am, I somehow end every sentence like a question.

“This really isn’t a good fit for us?”

“Negative reinforcement in potty training is a bad idea?”

“We need to do what works for our family?”

“He’s not going to be running around in underwear in two weeks?”

“Have a great school year?”

With Charlie it is easier. I am forceful. I am the advocate for his special needs. I am the Wonder Woman to his little civilian self. He needs me. The twins of course need me too…they’re only three. But because I fall into the “typical” mom role with them I’m always second-guessing myself. With Charlie, it’s a noble life we lead, and war we fight, for fairness and free speech and free play and all the rest. But with the twins, I always catch myself asking, “Am I doing this right? Am I asking too much? Am I creeping up on this problem in the right way?”

It’s strange to think that I am more comfortable as the special needs mom than the regular mom. It’s strange to think that parenting Charlie might be easier in some ways than parenting the twins.

Such is life… our strange life anyway. We keep on trucking through poop and new starts and new school years. I think every mom has a different identity, at least a little bit, with each kid she parents because they all need us in different ways.

I am advocate.

I am listener.

I am disciplinarian.

I am big old softy.

I am hugs.

I am time outs.

I am arms and legs.

I am soft lap.

I am circus clown.

I am lecturer.

I am master chef.

I am ice cream for dinner.

I am the woman God made me to be for each one of my babies and I’m still learning…