Proof of Great Parenting #1: Cuss Words

Camille: Where's the ipad, mommy?

Me: On the counter.

Camille: Oh

Silence

Camille: See mommy, I said 'Oh', not 'Oh dammit' (repeats the sentence one more time because she thinks I'm not listening, meanwhile I'm putting in my contacts)

Me: Do you think that other word is a good word to say?

Camille: No, mommy, that's why I just said 'Oh' not 'Oh dammit'

Me: Okay, let's just stop saying that word altogether, okay?

Camille: Okay! (skips off to go get the ipad)

Poor, poor, pitiful me

I’m going to preface this entry with a disclaimer, in case the title did not already give it away: it is currently my time of the month, the dark cloud has descended above my head (picture Grumpy Bear from the Care Bears), and Chicken Little is peeking around the corner. Thus, you can imagine the tone of the remainder of this message.

My best friend once said, “Stay at home moms are so unappreciated.” I think that’s true. I think that statement can also be expanded to include working moms and, well, moms in general. If you’re a mom, chances are highly likely that you’ve experienced some lack of appreciation from one or more sources.

Your children don’t count, and this is why: if you provide a loving, safe environment for them to grow, then they live, breathe and exist within the surrounding of “unconditional love.” If they are younger than 10, this tends to mean that they can make demands and seemingly unreasonable requests and even stick their tongues out at you and you have no recourse except to uncover some form of novel punishment, which tends to become a guessing game to find what sort of discipline works on any given day. This is where I currently live, so I’m going to speak from this perspective.

Okay, so your children don’t count, but everyone else is fair game…including beloved family members and friends…yes, even – dare I say it??? – spouses.

Let me clarify. I am NOT speaking for my husband, I’m merely suggesting that there may be times that one spouse tends to feel unappreciated by the other. I’m sure, at times, my husband feels very unappreciated. Heck, he is outnumbered by females in our house. Not a safe place to be all the time. So I am only speaking for myself here, and how I am currently feeling.

Mom. Motherhood. Mommy.

These words are endearing, right? They conjure up images of the baby suckling the breast, cuddled in the mother’s arms, sweet expressions oozing from the mother’s face, hearts dripping out of that dark cloud over Grumpy Bear’s head, yadda, yadda, yadda.

Socially speaking? They also imply that no one is more patient than the mother, a mother never speaks loudly, a mother never yells, a mother never cries (unless she is weeping tears of joy or tears of sorrow for the pain her child or loved one is experiencing), a mother is the most gentle and loving soul on the face of the earth. Our Mother Mary in the flesh. “Gentle woman, quiet light, morning star, so strong and bright. Gentle mother, peaceful dove, teach us wisdom, teach us love.” 

Funny enough, even grandmothers can forget that they were mothers at one time. Although I believe that their “forgetfulness” is really a desire for you to be better, for you to not make the same mistakes that they may have made. Really though, mistakes are going to be made. Cuss words are going to be said, and then repeated, often, by your kids. Even your toddlers. And if they use them in the appropriate context, even better. You can silently give yourself a high five because you know you want to.

Here’s a dose of reality that we moms understand fully, but society is slow in coming to terms with: a mother is a constant figure in the life of a child.

Mommy is the first word that is uttered by a child that wakes up in the middle of the night. It is the mommy that is sought out for cuddling purposes. More often than not, mommy is called when a child is sick at school. Mommy is going to make the snack and she’s going to slice the apples and make sure that there is no skin on them. Mommy is going sing, mommy is going to play dress up, have tea, and then facilitate story time. Mommy is going to find projects to work on that include paint, crayons, markers, glitter and lots of messy stuff. Mommy is going to make sure that naps are taken. Mommy is going to put the plates in the dishwasher after dinner. She is going to immediately fix everything that breaks with tape and glue and maybe thread, and watch it fall apart within minutes only to do it all over again. Mommy is going to make everything better.

And…

Mommy is going to get yelled at and have doors slammed in her face. Mommy is going to be called “stupid.” Mommy is going to be told “I don’t want you anymore; I want daddy” (dads will be told this too, but it usually starts with mommy). Mommy is not going to be listened to. Mommy is going to be ignored. Mommy is going to hear “I hate you” more times than she will ever care to admit in her life.

And mommy is going to break down at some point, abandon her wits and argue back. She is going to yell. She is going to be irritable at times and her impatience is going to seep through. She is going to wish she were on a beach anywhere, ALONE, with a killer body, drinking a cocktail and smoking a cigarette.

And eventually, after all is said and done, Mommy is going to turn on Elton John’s “Sad Songs Say it So Much,” hide in her closet, fold up into a ball and shed sorrowful, pathetic-but-much-needed tears of pity for herself. Because sometimes that’s all a mommy needs to recover her strength and do it all over again.