Every week I do a column for Want2Dish.com called Tweet Nothings.
This week’s focus gets my vote for mother-of-the-year 2012…

This story is so absurd that I almost didn’t believe it.

Seven-year-old Poppy Burge of England got a truly unique present from her mother this Christmas… a $11,000 voucher for liposuction.

I wish I were lying.

But I’m not.

The mother-of-the-year in question is Sarah Burge,51, a plastic surgery addict and self-proclaimed “Human Barbie.”  This isn’t the first time Burge has given her daughter such a unique gift. Oh no. The 7-year-old already has a credit on her account for breast enhancement surgery.

Because that is what every second grader needs, of course.

Click here to read the rest of the story. (Oh yes, it gets better.)

My lovely and fabulous buddy Lori Rypka is one of the guest posters granting me a week of non-bloggy-ness while I vacation.  Yeah, I owe her!

What’s that sound?

Wait for it …. Wait for it … (nothingness). There it is, the elusive
silence I’ve been hearing so much about. I’m about to have the mythical
experience of silence in my house soon.

I began staying home with my daughter when she was 18 months old, and
have since had a son. I have been home taking care of kids for six
years, and have logged a collective 2,753 trips to Target, changed 8,412
diapers, given 3,529 baths, used 27,087 wipes to clean up butts and
messes, and logged 73.2 hours of sleep in that time. This fall, my
little man starts a pre-school program.

I am the first to wish that my kids don’t grow up. I had a contract with
my daughter to not grow up, but she has since changed the rules, but has
conceded to build her inventor’s lab in our backyard so that we can see
each other every day. She said we can have coffee together, and that I
can come over for sleepovers every night. My son has agreed that he
won’t grow up after he turns 4. (Ironic statement about the gender, eh?)

However, the thought of three hours a day, three days a week when both
children are in a safe, caring environment makes me think the
possibilities are endless. I can get my work done uninterrupted! I can
clean the floor and have it stay clean for TWO WHOLE HOURS. I can go to
the grocery store without a little friend asking for some sugary cereal,
then melting down when I don’t buy it! Bliss!

More importantly, of course, I’m just tickled pink that they will learn
new and exciting lessons, meet new people, see old friends that have
missed over the summer, and have new experiences. It’s worth the morning
chaos to get out the door. And of course the few moments of quiet are
just an added bennie.

My children are not babies anymore.  They are not toddlers.  They are not first graders.

Oh no, we are so past that.

To say that they are “growing” is such a cliche.  Yet, that is the only word that I can grasp right now to describe this incredible stage of development they are in.

Their needs are changing.  They don’t need me in that way anymore.

They don’t need me in the room to protect them from choking hazards. They don’t need me to pour them a drink or make them a snack. They can even get dressed by themselves and make their own beds. (That being said, brushing their teeth is still a stretch.  With males it is best to visually verify that this task has been accomplished or ewww… )

What they seem to need now is a little room and a little space to discover.  They need me to interact with them and appreciate them and help them to sort their emotions and reasoning out.  They need me to spend time talking and dreaming with them. They need me to admire their Lego model and investigate their hypothesis.  They need me to listen to them read their Goosebumps books and sing along to their favorite Big Time Rush and Selena Gomez songs.  They need me to corroborate that yes, in fact, Phineas and Ferb is one of the best shows ever made for television viewing.

In doing all of these things I am able to witness their evolution.

Like all stages in their lives so far, there are incredible moments that take my breath away.  More subtle than the “oh-my-gosh-did-you-see-him-walk!?” phase.  These moments are windows into their future selves.  The hint of sarcastic humor. The clear indication of a future passion. I am addicted to these moments.

Yes, it is true that my kids don’t need me in that way anymore.  Surprisingly, I don’t even care. Whatever way they need me is fine by me.