message to my girl (and boy)

this one’s for you, kids. this one and this one, too.

no matter how you try, there will be days when you cannot keep the permanently-brave mommy facade up. maybe your day has just been a series of idiotic, unbelievable events that continue to pile-up in that way that some days do, like a never-ending car crash. or maybe you’re just not feeling well — you’re exhausted in a way that only other people who have a condition on top of parenthood can really understand. maybe you’re just tired of dealing with a never-ending panoply of wankers.

today was a combo of all three. and then some.

by the time the afternoon rolled around, i knew i needed to get some sleep or i would burst into a flood of tears. i picked up BC from school, told her to do her homework, and then, if she felt like it, she could curl up with me in my bed and we could watch something together. she dutifully did her work, consulting me on a few word patterns, and then we settled in to finish the 1949 version of  little women (you know, the movie i had originally intended for us to watch before BC decided to pick jesus camp instead? — oh, and by the way — we’re also working on a Nova about intelligent design. that’s a laff riot, too.)

not even june allyson’s terminal perkiness or elizabeth taylor’s frightful look as a blonde could keep me awake. i dozed off until the very end of the movie. i knew the story, though, and i wasn’t sure how madame would take it when one of the characters (SPOILER ALERT!) kicks the bucket. but she was fine.

later in the evening, the sadness hit. sad. sad. sad. buzz, i said, thanks so much for hanging with me. i’m sorry, but sometimes, i suck as a mom.

oh mama, she replied, you don’t suck. you’re the best mom in the whole world! 

and jools, sitting nearby, chimed in, you’re the best mama because you like to play with us! that child may not listen when i address him sometimes, but i’m always amazed at the strategic moments when his ears are open.

somehow, the clouds of the day lifted. it was an ordinary evening: BC disliking my culinary endeavor, jools wanting me to give him a bath instead of BS, stories a go-go, and then nighttime chats before bed. but there’s something so wonderful about the ordinariness of the evening, especially with little people who seem to reach me when no one else can.


6 Responses to “message to my girl (and boy)”

  1. Your kids are such peaches!

  2. Awww…I love that our kids are so bighearted. They can see beyond the guilt. Another friend of mine who shares your name always encourages me to stop feeling guilty when I am cranky or unable to be there with/for my kids. They don’t hang onto it like adults do, she says, and she seems to be right. Kids are so able to give you another chance (and to see right through your sadness and guilt and see the amazing mom in you)….

  3. i am trying every day to learn to be more like my kids on the bighearted, guilt-forgetting front. where does that get lost, i wonder?

    in the meantime, i thank my lucky stars for my kids. sure, they drive me crazy (and they aren’t saints), but they continually remind me how to be truly, genuinely kind.

  4. What it all says is that you do not suck as a mom. You are raising kind, empathetic children. It is a great feat. I, OTOH, have damaged my children unthinkably, but they still think I’m a good mom.

  5. oh, i bet you’re kids are far from damaged; and i know you’re a great mom.

    and… just wait til they grow up and realize that their partner doesn’t cook the way that mom does 😉

  6. You don’t suck…hey, we all have our moments. I call them “Mommy mistakes.”

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: