The best and worst mom... of the best and worst kids
I am an excellent mother. I put other mothers to shame, and frequently feel uncomfortable in the knowledge that this woman or that woman is looking at me with resentment when she finds out that my kids haven't watched television for a month, I have read 5 chapter books to them in that month, and I dug 36 post holes by hand and fenced my 1500 sq ft garden by myself while home with the kids.
On the other hand, I am the mommy that feels like a little girl playing house when she is around the other real mommies. A zoo trip with friends usually involves me borrowing supplies from their diaper bags. In fact, the list of things that are not in my diaper bag makes me want to hang my head and wave my little surrender flag... except, oh yeah, I will need to borrow one of those as well.
On the one hand, my children are thoughtful mature little people who will voluntarily postpone their birthday parties until ALL their relatives are available to come, because they would rather have everyone they love all be together than get their presents sooner. They will produce deep, insightful reflections about their faith in God or their sympathy toward another person's struggle. Pulling weeds with my 7 year old will get him talking about the Holy Spirit's work in his own heart. Little angels right?
On the other hand, my children are wild, untamed monkey children. No joke, they swing from trees and furniture, and one time while I was driving, a banana peel flew from the backseat and hit me in the back of the head. In warm weather, it is a daily command of mine: "You MUST wear clothes outside!" They can and will climb anything and then jump off just for the thrill of the fall, regardless of consequence to their limbs. I believe I should be awarded an honorary nursing degree in leu of the injuries I have tended.
My husband and I contained our children into an elevator once and began explaining how they should exit slowly so as not to knock anyone over. Then the elevator stopped mid trip on another floor to pick up more passengers, and our kids exploded out in a blur of giggles. My husband held the elevator open while I chased and herded kids from all directions back into the elevator. Thirty minutes later, they were complimented by an elderly lady (who had not witnessed the burst out of the elevator) on how politely and maturely they sat and dined in a restaurant. She complimented me on having model children. I smiled and politely took the compliment feeling it somewhat made up for sitting in my car crying after a certain recent shopping trip where my children screamed, knocked things over, rolled on the floor and had to be carried out to the car screaming, "Mean Mommy!"
The truth is, I and my children are complex people with great strengths and great weaknesses. The frustrating thing is that some people only seem to witness one or the other.
I frequently am complimented by people on how "improved" my children are from what they were before. And I am raising my eyebrows thinking, "Yesterday I scrubbed sharpie off the wall, bandaged the spurting head of a child of mine who had been hit with a shovel by one of the others, and paid for a demolished library book." And later I realize that, rather than blushing and saying, "um... Thanks?" I should have responded, "My children are certainly growing, but there has been no miraculous transformation, you just happened to witness them on a good day after a series of bad experiences with them." Because the truth is, they have great days and horrible days, and no one should ever assume that what they have seen of my children for five minutes is an example of what they are like the rest of the time. And the same goes for me. I can be that neat and orderly woman escorting the silent courteous children through a quiet bookstore, and an hour later I can be at home covered in slop, screaming at my kids, "If I have to tell you to put away this crap one more time, I'm throwing away all your toys!"
On the other hand, I am the mommy that feels like a little girl playing house when she is around the other real mommies. A zoo trip with friends usually involves me borrowing supplies from their diaper bags. In fact, the list of things that are not in my diaper bag makes me want to hang my head and wave my little surrender flag... except, oh yeah, I will need to borrow one of those as well.
On the one hand, my children are thoughtful mature little people who will voluntarily postpone their birthday parties until ALL their relatives are available to come, because they would rather have everyone they love all be together than get their presents sooner. They will produce deep, insightful reflections about their faith in God or their sympathy toward another person's struggle. Pulling weeds with my 7 year old will get him talking about the Holy Spirit's work in his own heart. Little angels right?
On the other hand, my children are wild, untamed monkey children. No joke, they swing from trees and furniture, and one time while I was driving, a banana peel flew from the backseat and hit me in the back of the head. In warm weather, it is a daily command of mine: "You MUST wear clothes outside!" They can and will climb anything and then jump off just for the thrill of the fall, regardless of consequence to their limbs. I believe I should be awarded an honorary nursing degree in leu of the injuries I have tended.
My husband and I contained our children into an elevator once and began explaining how they should exit slowly so as not to knock anyone over. Then the elevator stopped mid trip on another floor to pick up more passengers, and our kids exploded out in a blur of giggles. My husband held the elevator open while I chased and herded kids from all directions back into the elevator. Thirty minutes later, they were complimented by an elderly lady (who had not witnessed the burst out of the elevator) on how politely and maturely they sat and dined in a restaurant. She complimented me on having model children. I smiled and politely took the compliment feeling it somewhat made up for sitting in my car crying after a certain recent shopping trip where my children screamed, knocked things over, rolled on the floor and had to be carried out to the car screaming, "Mean Mommy!"
The truth is, I and my children are complex people with great strengths and great weaknesses. The frustrating thing is that some people only seem to witness one or the other.
I frequently am complimented by people on how "improved" my children are from what they were before. And I am raising my eyebrows thinking, "Yesterday I scrubbed sharpie off the wall, bandaged the spurting head of a child of mine who had been hit with a shovel by one of the others, and paid for a demolished library book." And later I realize that, rather than blushing and saying, "um... Thanks?" I should have responded, "My children are certainly growing, but there has been no miraculous transformation, you just happened to witness them on a good day after a series of bad experiences with them." Because the truth is, they have great days and horrible days, and no one should ever assume that what they have seen of my children for five minutes is an example of what they are like the rest of the time. And the same goes for me. I can be that neat and orderly woman escorting the silent courteous children through a quiet bookstore, and an hour later I can be at home covered in slop, screaming at my kids, "If I have to tell you to put away this crap one more time, I'm throwing away all your toys!"