I'm not a very observant mom. Actually, a better way to put that is: I am not observant AT ALL. I'm rarely the first person to notice if one of my kids has a bump or a scratch, and when I'm in the throes of dealing with a whiny, unhappy kid, it hardly ever occurs to me that he might not be feeling well. I'm much more apt to assume he's just being a brat. I know, I know. That's, like, forty Mom Demerits.

Both of my kids have been out of sorts for a while now. It started with runny noses. Molly had it first and I thought, "Teething!" because one time I heard someone with authority say that a runny nose without any other symptoms often means teething and I REMEMBERED. I have no idea if it's actually TRUE, but there I was feeling oh so proud of myself for 1) noticing and 2) coming up with a diagnosis. Parenting win! Then Jack came down with a runny nose and I had to reevaluate -- unconnected grossness, or a cold making it's way through my family?

I don’t mean to holler and yell like a banshee when my kids get out of line. It just, like, happens.

Usually, I yell after I’ve asked them nicely five times to do something -- like move their crap off the kitchen table or straighten up their rooms or go to sleep already because it’s 10:30 p.m. and I put you in your bed two hours ago and I’m tired, dammit, and I want to give your father some so that I can pass out from exhaustion.

Or I might yell if they start sparring each other like they’re prepping for the next Tyson vs. Holyfield heavyweight fight.

I’ll definitely raise my voice at my kids if they’re defiant. Talking back gets my goat. Pretending you didn’t hear me when I know good and doggone well you did takes me over the edge.

And so I pump up the volume.

Here's your context for today's post: Before kids, I was the person rolling her eyes and raising her eyebrows and sighing disapproving sighs around parents who could not control their children. On occasion, I am ashamed to say, I still do this. But Saturday, upon leaving a baby shower hours early in disgrace, I wanted to dive into the nearest confessional to atone for my years of judgment and haughtiness, because I HAVE BECOME THAT PARENT.

It's my fault. I shouldn't have brought the kids, even though I'd been assured numerous times that it was okay. But they woke up too early (is this a problem in anyone else's house? With Jack, especially, if he wakes up too early there is HELL TO PAY for the rest of the day) and the shower didn't start till 11 and I didn't give them lunch beforehand and I didn't bring the right toys or lunch foods and I only brought one sippy cup and I hadn't thought about parking far away and walking on a big street and I neglected to bring the appropriate tranquilizers and OKAY OKAY, I SHOULD HAVE KNOWN BETTER.

When Molly wakes up at 5:30 in the morning, she gets to take a nap two hours later. I don't. I get to entertain the boy, and neither of us are entirely sure what we should be doing during this wasted morning nap time. I usually clean up breakfast, attempt to sweep the floors, eat my own breakfast and, let's face it, check my email. Maybe I check my email every three minutes. WHO KNOWS.

I'm usually quick enough to whisk Molly out of her crib before she wakes up the rest of the house, but this morning she was jabbering to herself long before I was even coherent. Jack was awake. I hoped he'd go back to sleep, but I wasn't so lucky. And that's what did it -- a poorly rested Jackson is a curse upon the entire Cheung household.

I have a confession to make. (Don't judge me before you hear me out!) I am a procrastinator. I know. You are horrified to hear such a thing from me but it is true. If I am anything with you, it is honest. Therefore, I felt it was time to come clean. (I should have told you weeks ago. I realize that.)

It seems I tend to be eternally late with everything. (Christmas cards should go out before the 24th of December?! Really?) In fact, I am terrible with deadlines. (Shhh! Do not tell my editor.) I count on my friends, co-workers and Google Calendar to remind me when I have an upcoming appointment, project or deadline.

It was always a strike against me in school. Yes, I was the student who waited until the last minute to get her work done. Thankfully, I was able to maintain an A average in spite of my irresponsibility. Besides, if I missed a deadline, I was the only one who suffered back then. To be honest, the adrenaline rush of making sure I met the deadline usually resulted in better work and more concentration on the project.