Friday, May 7, 2010

Mother of the Year

This is hands down my favorite joke in life - that I am Mother of the Year (hence forth referred to as MoY). If it’s one thing my children have given me (other than the flu, Rota virus, and several trips to the ER) it’s the gift of humility. Prior to having babies I considered myself to be an articulate and on-the-ball kind of girl. I used my ADHD to juggle five projects at once and was pretty successful at it. And then I had children - the blood flow in my brain went South to the belly and never seemed to return once said cherub was born. While on the surface I try to appear all knowing and wise in front of my children (and apparently I have done a good job of snowing hubby as well), in reality, I have made more than my fair share of rookie mistakes. When I make a particularly BIG screw up (don’t worry, no one gets hurt, but the kids usually expand their four letter word vocabulary), I always raise my arms in the air almost fist pump style, and say “Mother of the Year! YESSSSSS!”. I won’t tell you the four letter word I’m actually thinking in my head - but it starts with an ‘f’. And the MoY joke goes on.

I confess that I have more than my fair share of medical and child development knowledge - but like every mother - I have my moments when I have NO idea just what the heck I am doing. The following are a few of my favorites - try not to pee on yourself while you are laughing at me. You’ll just be wet, and I will feel sad - neither one of us will win. Having said that - have fun.

The first time I taught my oldest a four letter word, my foot accidentally collided with the door frame and split my toes between numbers three and four - think Mork and Mindy ‘Manu! Manu!”. I crumbled to the ground and having just seriously injured my toes, I said with great exclamation “OH SHIT! (pause for a sec to get my breath) SHIT! SHIT! SHIT!”. I have a high pain tolerance - I did four days of natural labor with my first - but there is just something about splitting your toes that will drop you to the floor. I didn’t stop to think that my 14 month old might pick up this juicy little word. He promptly repeated “OH SHIT!” (now there’s a first word for the baby book). Thinking I was more clever than him, I didn’t miss a beat and said “Thats right, Oh shoot!”. He repeated the original word again, and I repeated my phrase. This little dance went on for a few minutes with him maintaining a confused look on his face. The next day he decided to test his new word again. He dropped something and said “Oh shit!” Now I admit, I was impressed that he used it appropriately, but I didn’t want this particular phone call home from daycare. I once again said “That’s right, Oh shoot!”. He and I played out this little scenario for weeks and weeks until finally, one day, he said “Oh shoot!” - and I felt triumphant! I had undone my own rookie mistake! I was a goddess!

Fast forward a few more months when we went to visit Nana (aka my mom). Let me back up for a second - I have a truly fantastic mom. I strive to be as great as her, and I cannot recall her making any of my rookie mistakes (though she disputes this). I had not shared my little four letter word incident with her because - well, she’s my mom, and I didn’t want to disappoint her. SO, there we were - Nana, me and my oldest. In a true twist of irony, Nana accidentally kicked the corner of the chair (and split her own toes) and exclaimed as she crumpled to the ground “Oh SHIT!” - I know, makes you wonder where I learned it from, doesn’t it? And my oldest, not missing a beat, starts marching around the living room like he’s a trombone player in a parade saying over and over again “Oh shit! Oh shit! Oh shit!”. Nana just about swallowed her face when she saw my oldest and his little marching band explicative routine. And I, having just witnessed my own mother’s mistake, and wanting to truly mess with her, didn’t miss a beat and said with disdain “Oh nice, Nana”. She couldn’t apologize enough. She felt genuinely bad about teaching him a new four letter word. All the while my oldest is still marching around “Oh shit! Oh shit! Oh shit!”. I shook my head at her in disbelief and disappointment. I let this little guilt trip go on for a few more minutes before I let her off the hook. We shared a great laugh over it. And that was just the beginning of my climb toward MoY.

Just wait until I tell you about the time I taught him “DAMN IT!” Now THAT was a doozie!