It's just me eating chips!

I have said before that our first children were our "practice kids." While we have most definitely made mistakes the second time around, at least they are usually different ones. I was marveling last night at how much my parenting has changed since the twins were babies. I freely admit that there are things I would never have allowed them to do that my baby gets away with on a daily basis. Last night we loaded up the kids and went to look at a horse two hours from my house. On a school night. Gasp! On the way out the door, my husband scooped up our barefoot two year old and said, "Get her shoes." Yep. No problem. Except that I didn't. In my haste to pack diapers, snacks, extra clothes, my stuff, more snacks, and a sippy cup, I forgot to pick up her stinking shoes.
We arrived at our destination, I hopped out of the Suburban, opened her door...and realized that she was still barefoot. A rapid search of my car revealed the awful truth. Her shoes were sitting next to the door at home. Now, first-time mommy me would have said, "Well, she'll just have to sit in the car." And then been horrified at my mistake and worried the whole time that the other people there were thinking about what an awful redneck mother I was. There is NO way I would have consented to my children running around barefoot, in a barn of all places. New, tired, and improved mommy me said, "Well, she needs a bath, anyway. Girls, help me keep your sister away from the horses." Hey, I'm a veterinarian. I have access to dewormer. They probably all need a dose, anyhow.
I am happy to report that my baby still has all her toes, and as far as I know hasn't contracted any animal diseases. Her feet did come clean, and the lady at the barn was way too eager to tell me about her friend who dressed her daughter and made it to church, only to discover that she'd forgotten to put a diaper on the baby. I've decided that it happens to everyone, they just don't tell you about it.
As we were making our way home, the girls were snacking in the backseat. I had grabbed several bags of chips and various other snacks, thrown them in a bag, and told them to help themselves. Also something first-time mommy NEVER would have done. I didn't think much about the crunching I heard behind me until I realized that it was coming from right behind me. I turned around to find my two year old with a family size bag of Ruffles in her lap, crunching contentedly while she watched a Barbie movie on the DVD player. Her dad almost fell over laughing, then really got beside himself when she looked at us and with excellent enunciation and clarity said, "Don't worry, Daddy. It's just me eating chips!" To which he responded, "Baby, if you can explain it that well, you can have all the chips you want!"
Yes, my husband is definitely a fan of new and improved mommy. We no longer follow a schedule with military precision. My kids run, play, get dirty, and occasionally hurt themselves. I have managed to beat my OCD down with a stick and tolerate toys on the floor day and night. Heck, I even kept myself under control when the baby rescued a paper towel roll from the garbage can so she could use it for a telescope. (I did make sure it was the only thing in the can before I let her have it.) Maybe I've gotten older. Maybe I've gotten tired. Maybe I learned some things the first time around. Or maybe I've just given up. Either way, my kids and their dad are having fun. And that's what this whole thing is supposed to be about.