MOTHER'S DAY

It's the little things that count.  That's what everyone tells us.  But that's not exactly truthful.  When it comes to parenting, and what your kids recall from their childhoods, it's the BIG, glaring, mercurial mess-ups that are remembered.

Got any idea where I'm going with this?

When we're sitting around, having a few drinks (yeah, I know, part of the problem), talking about memories of Mom (me) all the old, bad stuff comes out.  Fair game...but would be more equitable if the backstory to each was told as well and you know, there's ALWAYS a backstory.

No matter how many sleepless nights you've put in nor how many wonderful birthday parties you've planned and carried out nor how many endless hours you've spent behind the wheel of the ol' mom mobile, they're going to the remember that split second when you lost your shit.

I was recently reminded by LB, in conjunction with LP, 'of the time you were going to beat us with a belt.'

Well...not quite.

The situation was they were 5 and 10 years of age, we were going through a cross country move and, in general, I was on my last nerve as they say.  Husband had already (conveniently) moved out west to start his new job, leaving me with the selling of the house, packing up of the house and moving of the house, kids and animals, not to mention the daily care of the kids - school, etc.  This particular day was near the end of that adventure.  We were all in the master bedroom where we were living like squatters.  Most of the packing was done except for the little extraneous stuff.  The furniture had been dismantled so we were living minimally - paper plates to eat off of, using the same towels, sleeping - all together (me, the kids and the dog and cat) - on the queen mattress on the floor in my room.  LB and LP were going at it as kids do best, whining, pulling on each other, falling down, getting up, basically just pushing ALL the buttons - all while bouncing around on top of the communal bed.  Me?  I'm doing whatever packing was left to do, mostly clothes, I think.  Anyway, they just wouldn't 'QUIT!' so as the frustration and impatience rose in me, I looked around and grabbed the last thing left behind by husband - his belt.

Wielding the belt with the might of Zorro, systems in overdrive, I strode over to the 'bed' and mightily brought that sucker down with a loud "THUD!...on the 'bed'. 

I think they sensed/heard/saw in their peripheral my teeth gritting and wind sucking that fueled my advance to the 'bed' because the coming down of the belt and the immediate cease fighting/split second clinging and wimpering by the two culprits were pretty much instantaneous.  I do have to admit I felt an immediate and rising sense of calm...and power in my being.  I took a half a minute to relish in their quaking, their reactions which were incredulous that I even think of beating them.  Their look of  'damn that bitch is crazy'.   Oh I felt a distinct measure of power in their cowardice.  I had vanquished the renegades.

But BEAT them?? No, I never, ever beat them.  I never even had ever spanked them.  So there LB...

So when Mother's Day rolls around, it's never going to be heart squishy 'oh Mom you're wonderful' because in the back of their minds they do - and will - remember the epic parent fails.

Perfect I am not.  I admit to being caught, more than once, by the toothless child waking up to the 'tooth fairy' slipping the moola under the pillow.  And cheaping out on the baby at Christmas ('He's so young.  What's the difference - he'll never know').

I remember LB asking me, very sincerely, if I EVER READ TO THEM when they were little.  ARE YOU KIDDING ME???  I explained to her that as soon as I could safely balance her pumpkin head atop her skinny little baby shoulders I would have her infant self leaned back against me while I rocked AND READ TO HER.  Oh and another out.of.the.mouth.of.babes:  "Do you like being a mom?"  I guess she had to ask because on this particular day I WAS NOT ENJOYING BEING THE LEADER OF THE BAND.  Sweet little innocent face looking up at me in earnest, asking a very legitimate question.  "YES!" I growled.  Ah memories are made of such.

So I probably won't win any contests for most heartwarming and in my later years they will probably flip a coin to see who has to check the old broad out of the home for the day but my one wish...my one hope...

That someday they are parents too.