Mother’s Day 2019

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On this Mother’s Day Eve (humor me), my mind goes to the recent past, in that I’m a “mean mommy.”  I suppose I yell a little.  Some.  A lot.  But it boils down to me being an ineffective disciplinarian.  I’m serious.  Those little…buggers… just go on and do whatever they want.  “Whatever.”  “I don’t care.”  Grrr…

“Well, you’re not doing your job in raising them correctly.”  Listen, Linda.  I know I’m not the frontrunner for Mom of the Decade.  Or the week.  Fuck, even today.  But I’m learning every day, just like my kids are.

Are the girls alive?  Yep.

Are they properly fed?  More or less.  Hey.  They’re not withering away to nothingness.

Are they doing well in school?  Hellz to the yeah.  (Props to their teachers on that one.)

However, I keep hearing from the girls – well, the older one, especially – about me being mean.  I get it.  All moms are mean at some point in motherhood.  But, shit.  Take it down a notch, girl.  I’m trying to help you and you’re not listening.  It’s fucking frustrating.

And the attitude.  The Attitude.  You are 8 1/2.  (She’ll say “well, actually, I’m 8 years, 7 months old.”)  We’ve jumped into the 3rd circle of hell already.  Yes, I see that you are changing.  Developing.  She freaked out the one day so dramatically that I thought she was going to tell me she started her period already.  That wasn’t it.  It was fucking mundane – so much so, that I can’t remember what it was about – but still.  This shit is happening at breakneck speed these days.  I’m cruising along on my Segway and she’s tearing it up in a Bugatti Veyron.

I’m getting off course here.  As per usual.

Oh.  Right.

I thought I was going to be the “cool mom.”  You know, the whole, kinda laid-back mom who lets her children be themselves.  Be creative.  Don’t stifle them in whatever they are doing.  Within reason.  Instead, I’m treading water in the woman-made deep-water lake I’ve created.  I’m not trying to be their “friend.”  I’m just trying to keep the door open for them to talk to me.  About whatever.  To be themselves.

Blew up in my face.  When doesn’t it?

But that’s motherhood, right?  Trial and error?  You win some, you lose some?

Speaking of which, I’m losing this one, because I can’t quite wrap up my thoughts and I’m getting hammered with questions about making pizza and “Why didn’t you charge my iPad?!?!  It isn’t charging!!! No!! NOOOOOO!!!”

Then again, I’ve won, simply for the fact that, one day, she will be mortified over me writing all of this for all to see.

 

 

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