I'm not just a late adopter when it comes to tech. Sure, I've got the Gen-1 iPhone and I used Facebook way back before everyone, their babysitter, and their weird sexy email stalkers were on it.
But other than that, I'm pretty damn clueless. I probably use 3 of the 4000 Gmail features. And I finally relented and googled "FTW" because I could not, for the life of me, figure out what the hell it meant.
Needless to say, I was extremely disappointed. (For the win! Huh?)
But as it turns out, I'm also a behind the curve when it comes to this motherhood thing.
It's not necessarily because being a mom doesn't appeal to me, or because I lack any sort of motivation to do things smarter not harder.
And my kids are happy, polite, and fairly well-adjusted - so far, at least - so I can't be that off track.
But considering I only recently learned about the power of different sized Ziploc bags and I have no idea what the real difference is between aluminum foil and saran wrap (other than the obvious "plastic melts, don't microwave tin foil"), it's obvious that when it comes to the other duties that seem to be lumped in with being a "good mother," I'm about two fries short of a Happy Meal.
(Or two apple dippers - ahem).
I've figured out that because I don't have any in-real-life-in-driving-distance friends, other than a running buddy, a fellow blogger, and a beautiful, gorgeous neighbor (and her lovely daughter), I don't have anyone to look to for advice. And I'm not talking about what to do with a baby who doesn't sleep or a toddler who laughs when you put him in time out.
I'm talking about what sort of supplies I need to pack a lunch for my daughter and what to do with all the extra legoes lying around my family room floor and where I should store the 4000 water bottles that keep accumulating in my house.
I just bought a toaster oven two months ago, people.
So instead, I twitter and google. "Sandwiches other than peanut butter and jelly for lunch" and "I have no idea what fabric softener is for."
"How often am I supposed to wash my kid's sheets?"
I always feel as though I'm the last to know - that I'm the mom who is often flying by the seat of her pants, scrounging around for rubber bands and checking her jewelry box for safety pins and trying to figure out how it's possible that she lost an entire school uniform somewhere in her daughter's bedroom.
And while I'm definitely ahead of the curve when it comes to sex toys, that's not exactly the reputation I'm looking to flaunt at the PTA meetings.
I realize I will never be known as the "organized mom," or the "Martha Stewart mom." I won't be known for my amazing homemade brownies or my beautiful flower garden or my evenly labeled storage bins.
I'm okay with that.
And I'm coming to accept that just being "Quinlan's mom" (and Drew's and Margot's too) is the only label I need.