Here's how one gets into The Crappy Mother Book. I have referred in the past to the Good Mother Book, particularly when insisting that my children eat two spears of broccoli even when they're not in the mood. But I'm changing course, moving into my realistic phase. Here's how to get into The Crappy Mother Book:
Wait long enough to make dinner so that your teenager volunteers to make it.
Spend a lotta time communicating with guidance counselors and teachers while completely ignoring the children.
Take on all emotional concerns of your children because you know you can do it better than your partner, even though your are exhausted. Be smug about it.
Complain about work so that your kids get a complete picture of the experience of adulthood. Then lamely tell them that you really do enjoy your job, proving that parents truly are hypocrites.
Go on a trip and forget your asthmatic child's new medicine, despite the fact that he just had a problem a few days before. When your pathetic health insurance won't pay for a dose at a different pharmacy, leave him no choice but to take the old stuff that makes him queasy and dizzy. Say you are going to call the health insurer later and give them what-for, or what-have-you. Take a nap instead.
Let your children watch cable t.v. for hours when they visit the grandparents, then feign surprise when they mention something wildly inappropriate in front of a neighbor.
Say "that's right, shithead" to stupid drivers while your little one is in the back seat.
Skip her bedtime ritual when 24 is on.
Make them clean their rooms when yours is an absolute sty.
And finally: take a third cookie when they're each having two, and tell them it's because you "feel like it."
Is there a martini and cigarettes category or would that be gauche?
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I hate that I see myself in that description way too clearly! Years ago my 4-year-old actually made dinner for her and her brother after I fell asleep reading stories on the couch! (I had chicken pox at the time, but still!)
ReplyDeleteThe other night my kids made themselves dinner and none of us ate together and it was just so awfully alienating. That was the dregs.
ReplyDeleteI try to maintain the eating together thing. I have fond memories of everyone at a big dinner table as kids. I want to keep that going, but it's hard. I still can't figure out how to deal with do many different tastes and appetites. My guy and Bee are vegetarians, my other two kids love meat, but nobody much likes whatever anyone else likes! Not even spaghetti! I'd like to hire a magical cook that would make us all meals that we'd all happily enjoy every night.
ReplyDeleteAs a kid, we ate what my mom cooked in quiet misery or else. There's something to that alright!
Okay, I'm thinking. That's a tough one. I'll be pondering. There must be a Venn Diagram, right?
ReplyDeleteHave been off-line for days now, and just catching up with you -- this post is too funny. I feel like I have about six items to add, but am too freaking foggy-brained and disorganized to even-remember them. (Maybe that's one? "Can't even remember own miserable mothering moments?") Must make a mental note next time I'm qualifying for the club -- and am delighted to know that I will like at least one of the other members!
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