Words are a big deal in our house. We like them. Especially ones that are fun to say or obscure or just plain big. So it’s not uncommon for one of my kids to ask what a word means. More words to use to influence others and win friends. Or be a big giant geek. Whichever…
And so it was on a recent Tuesday night. The kids were freshly bathed and pajama’d and we were watching TV. Suddenly the boy-child asks, “What does zap mean?”
I stall for time trying to figure out how I can explain zap to a 5 year old. Sometimes the easiest words are the hardest to explain. The only thing I can come up with is to poke him and make a buzzing sound. I find this woefully inadequate and turn to my mother thinking she has more experience answering questions from kids. You know, being a grandma and all. She fares no better.
Suddenly my beautiful geek of a girl-child says, “Zap? I know what zap means.”
She launches into this incredibly complicated explanation involving ELECTRONS and the transferring of ELECTRIC CHARGES. I stare at her mouth wide open as she excitedly relays this information before I check on the boy-child and his reaction to this explanation. He has pulled a blanket over his head apparently indicating that he is NOT LISTENING. Oh, dude, I am so right there with you. Not that this deters the girl-child. She’s quite proud.
I walk over to the boy-child, poke him and make a buzzing sound. Problem solved. Sometimes simple is better. BZZZZT!
Remember the movie Parenthood with Steve Martin where that little boy, Justin, put a bucket on his head and banged into the wall? He attempted several times to go through the wall before he put his hand out and realized the wall was solid.
Yeah. Funny stuff.
The other day my 5 year old boy-child decided it would be a good idea to swing around a sock full of dry erase markers like a lasso. I understand the allure. Markers in a sock. Who wouldn’t want to swing that around? Inevitably, he hit himself in the head and started to cry. Having not seen that first smack, I asked him what was wrong.
“I hit myself in the head!” He cried, tears streaming down his face, all the while swinging his elementary school weapon around his head.
“Stop doing that then,” I said as only us Minnesotans are wont to do (I am speaking of the “then” not the telling him to stop…). As I’m saying this he hit himself in the head a second time and cried even harder.
“Stop doing that,” I repeated.
“No! It’s fun,” he said through sobs as he hit himself (oh, I bet the suspense is killing you!) a THIRD TIME. And even then did he stop? No. It wasn’t until he smacked himself a fourth time that he decided that, yes, he should stop doing that. He dropped the sock to the floor and stomped off crying as he held his head.
I would weep for his future if I wasn’t laughing so hard.
It’s the start of another school year when the pressure to be the MYTHIC MOM is the highest. Magazines seem to know this judging by the slew of articles about how to be a better mother. Why are there not articles on how to be a better father by making cupcakes or by being more organized in the morning? Better yet, why aren’t these articles targeted to PARENTS rather than only mothers as if we are the only ones who can benefit from this information? And by the way, who said we needed help in the first place?
I don’t need any article that even suggests that I am not doing this parenting thing to the best of my ability. I have kids for that. And an ex-husband.
The first article I see is about mom guilt and standing up for yourself. The writer complains about how another mother came to the door recruiting for the peewee football team. The writer declined, explaining that her 8 year old son was already in one activity and she thought that was enough. The other mother apparently said something to the effect of, “Your son’s going to grow up to be a loser!” Now in defense of the other mother she could have meant something like your son is losing out and said it horribly, horribly wrong or perhaps she did only say he is missing out and what the writer heard is your son’s a loser. It doesn’t matter. Either way someone is letting her own insecurity get the better of her. Are we not all adults here? Did we not leave a high school a really long time ago and all of this sort of peer pressure behind?
I do wonder who actually says this kind of stuff but then I remember a conversation I had with a woman at my child’s dance class. She asked if we had gotten into Nintendo DS yet. She said they had two now and her youngest (at 2) was clambering for one. I replied that we didn’t. I said I was a mean mom and went back to my book. She said you are a mean mom. I laughed. I assumed she was joking and even if she wasn’t? It’s still funny. Because if she’s being that petty? The only response is to laugh. My children will not suffer if they have to interact with people rather than machines.
The guilt we put on ourselves is horrible. A friend of mine recently told me that I was a better mother than she was because I bought organic food. What?! What does that have to do with anything? At all. I don’t buy in the natural food aisle for my kids. I do it for me because I am so not 25 and I fear premature death if I don’t take care of myself. I just make my children suffer through it whether they like it or not (and when it comes to whole wheat bread my daughter definitely thinks she is suffering) because if I buy the food they really want, I’ll eat it. If my children possibly develop healthy eating habits along the way, well, yay me! But this in no way, shape, or form a “mom decision”. And really, as long as kids are happy, healthy, loved and secure, who cares if you are buying the organic mac and cheese? Besides, this woman’s child? He eats vegetables. All of them. Including TOMATOES which I can’t get my kids to eat no matter how I try to disguise them. So who’s to say who is a good mother? I don’t think food should be the end all be all of good mothering.
And speaking of food, what’s with all the cupcake and treat recipes for the classroom in all these magazines? Who does this anymore? This wasn’t even true when I was in school back in the 70’s (WAY BACK in the olden days according to my daughter. She’s actually surprised when I tell her we had color TV! And a microwave! What I don’t tell her is the microwave was so big and clunky that it interfered with the airline flight patterns). If you were poor, like me, your mom made treats for your birthday. If you were cool you brought Nutterbutters or Oreos or better yet, cool decorated cupcakes from the bakery. Now, every school I’ve had my children in for the last 10 years specifically instructs parents that we MAY NOT bring homemade treats. Why? Because your nasty kitchen has not passed a health inspection. Hallelujah. I have a hard enough time getting to the store to buy treats, forget about making anything. It would never happen.
So those cupcake frosting tips? Don’t need ‘em. And your guilt? Keep that, too. None of these things makes me a better mom. Now wouldn’t that be an article you’d like to read?
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