
I first saw this on a handout announcing a mother's group activity. My sisters and I laughed heartily. What makes it so funny? Is it the fact that it's true? I'm not sure, but it has been very thought provoking for me.
*Disclaimer: I am not, and have never been, a mother. That is, unless you count my brief stint as a tomato mother this summer, which ended in my being forced to give up my precious tomato plant baby for adoption when we moved to NJ. Or unless you count my numerous childhood attempts as a parakeet mother, all of which ended with a little heap of stiff, starved feathers at the bottom of a cage, followed by another tearful placement of a large rock in the corner of the yard surrounded by an awkward planting of woodland hyacinths and other flowers stolen from various flowerbeds. (Mom! Dad! Why did you keep letting me get parakeets!?)
However, I have had the privilege of observing many mothers, none of them perfect, but some better than others.
Recently I had the misfortune to be lazing by our pool in New Jersey one fine day, enjoying the glorious sunshine and a good book, when my peace was interrupted by a mother. I repeat, by a mother, not by her children who were, granted, making all kinds of noise. But their noise was not offensive to me. Hers was. At intervals of about 3 minutes, this mother would take a break from her conversation with another mother (which must have been a real sacrifice for her, as they were discussing with relish their favorite late-night reality t.v. show). She would then proceed to bark at her three children for a period of about 5 minutes, after which she would resume her conversation, apparently satisfied that she adequately demonstrated--to the entire neighborhood-- what a conscientious parent she was. These are the kinds of things I heard:
"Barney! BARNEY! Get out of that pool this INSTANT!"
"Why, Mom?"
"Barneeeeeeeey! Don't make me count to 3! One... Two..."
"I'm coming! What is it?"
"Take a drink of water!)
"But I'm not thirsty..." (Barney reluctantly drinks)
"More... MORE! Three more gulps! THAT wasn't even a gulp! C'mon Barney, three big gulps... NOW! Don't MAKE me count..."
"Mavis! If I have to tell you one more time to get your thumb out of your mouth, you're gonna be sorry! Who do you think's gonna pay for your braces when you look like some kind of circus freak! Huh? HUH?!?"
"But Mom, I think I got stung by a bee..."
"Don't give me your excuses! Did I raise you to talk back to me?"
"Don't give me your excuses! Did I raise you to talk back to me?"
"Elbert! ELBERT!!! Get over here this minute and tell my why you splashed water on your sister!"
"Because... we're at a pool. We're just playing around. See? Look, she's laughing. Everyone's splashing..."
"OH YEAH?! If everyone decided to jump in front of a train, would you do it too? Huh? Sit down over there in the scorching sun and shut up until you can behave yourself. And TAKE THREE GULPS OF WATER!!!"
*Names changed to protect childrens' identities. And okay, I may have exaggerated the outrageousness of this mothers' demands a little--but not much!
I'm a realist. I know that mothers don't always like their children, but I think they sometimes have more choice in the matter than they care to claim. I mean, seriously, what's one more gulp of water? Maybe it's a matter of choosing one's battles a little more carefully. And I'm always interested to see how different parents go about it. This is an area in which I think my parents excelled, and that my siblings are good at too. We always knew that our parents loved us, and maybe more importantly that they liked us (there's a big difference), even when we were naughty. And now it's such a delight to see how my siblings genuinely enjoy their kids. Not that they're always angelic. Kids aren't supposed to be! But their parents have commented to me that, often, the characteristics in their children that drive them the most crazy are also the things that they most enjoy and admire about them. Maybe that's the trick. Remembering that they're children, and remembering to admire them.
But, again, what do I know? I may eat these words someday. For as I said, I'm not a mother. At least, not until April 7th... ish!














