Bad Wife

In addition to bad mom moments, my days are often punctuated by bad wife moments. Yours? Of course not.

Today, in all of the wildness that is caring for a sick child, we sat down to eat lunch. Sam said a very nice prayer, which he had to start twice due to my knocking over the curious george book mid-sentence and kate yelling "George! George!" I lift up my sandwich to take a bite and open to the first page of George, when the phone rings. Of course, it could only be one person. Stuart.

I admit, I'd been waiting for him to call all morning to tell my tale of woe and I was anxious to get lunch over to make it to coveted nap time.

So I answered the phone: "OH, hello Stuart! How are you doing today? I love you so much!"

No.

"Do you, like, think of what could be the worst possible time to call us and then pick up the phone to dial? It seems like you always call as soon as we sit down for lunch or put someone in bed. Stuart? Stuart?"

Fortunately (or unfortunately) it was Stuart who caught this tirade at his thoughtful call home. But man, what a way to greet someone. Poor thing. After a quick apology, we did chat and he got to talk to the kids, but I've since called to add some more groveling to the batch. Good grief, Jaime.

Oh the Horror: Halloween, Part One

(I refer to this as Part One, because with more than 2 months until the big day, I am sure there will be more posts about this favorite of kiddie holidays.)

Today's bad mom trait: I don't like girly costumes.

Last year, Kate was a quite adorable ladybug. Easy, cuddly, and cute. But this year, as we start to see the costumes pop up at some of our favorite kiddie stores, I noticed that the big girl costumes are all, well, girly. There are basically three choices: fairies, princesses, or butterflies. They are all pastel and glittery, and come with either the essential wand, tiara, or wings. Ugh.

It sounds cute, when someone else talks about their little butterflies and candy cane fairies, but it just seems SO... foo foo. Kate's not a foo foo girl. I don't think.

I want her to be a kitty cat (with whiskers, but not with glitter, and not to be confused with the "pussy cat dolls" of skanky pop-culture variety) or maybe a pirate girl to match her brother's pirate theme. She's not old enough to choose, is she? Maybe Dora? That's not too bad, and definitely doesn't include sparkles. Unless she's Princess Dora.

I think I'm in for it.

Watch that mouth!

I've got a big mouth. Less in the physiological sense, and more in the "not afraid to say anything" sense. Often, this trait serves me well. Often it doesn't.

One of my favorite things about scripture is how God takes our weaknesses and makes them strengths. Take Peter, for example. Character trait: Passion and loyalty. Good side: "You are the Christ, the son of the living God!" Bad side: cutting off the soldiers ear. How true it is that our strength taken too far is often our weakness.

So, I got caught saying something about an external appearance issue that was unflattering, though not necessarily untrue. Definitely unkind. Even I was embarrassed. The question now is: what do I do about it?

No amount of groveling or apology will erase the memory of my remark. But I can change how I choose to act in the future. In Sunday's sermon, Francis preached of Jesus' lack of condemnation for the adulterous woman when he told her to "Go and sin no more." So that's what I must do-- change my future in response to my past.

I can't change my personality, nor do I really care to. But I can choose to speak kindly and appropriately to others, treating them as I would want to be treated, no better than I want to be treated. Not everyone has my thick skin, and I need to remember that we are called to be kind for a reason. When I am critical of someone else, I'm judging them, not loving them as we are called to do.

So the next time I come up with that clever description of someone's new do, or new shirt, or old shirt, if I'm not prepared to tell it to the wearer, I think I'll keep it to myself.

The 5 second rule

Every mom and college frat boy knows the 5-second rule: When food drops on the floor, or any undesirable surface, you have 5 seconds to pick it up before any nastiness is transferred rendering the food inedible. In fact, I even heard a factoid on the news about how some scientists (moms I'm sure) proved that there is some validity to the rule because germs can only transfer from surface to surface so fast-- much longer than 5 seconds, but I can't remember the exact number.

There is some variation in the 5 seconds required for location, food absorb-ability, and general preference. For example, dropping a sucker in the sand is bad because of absorption, but worse is the sucker in the ashtray. Or on the floor of the McDonalds bathroom. You get the idea.

Well, with the first child, even 5 seconds is unacceptable. No dirt must enter the mouth of my child, despite all of the crib chewing, lovey loving, and general exploring. But with the second, 5 seconds is avoided completely by the upgrade: the head-turn.

My youngest child, Kate, eats things off of the floor all of the time. I try not to notice, by a quick turn of the head. She adds a difficulty factor to this in her loves of mooching and throwing.

It all came to a head Tuesday night at Fazoli's. Everyone knows it's 99 cents kids meal night on Tuesdays at Fazoli's, and we were there in force. Kate loves the breadsticks, but kept dropping them on the floor. Then she thought it was fun to throw them on the floor. I think it adds flavoring. At first, I turned my head. But when it became a constant entertainment, I had to intervene with the "Let's eat at the table" comment. She doesn't care. Then she slides it cleverly off the table with a defiant look, and I am forced to throw the breadstick remnants away which leads to the inevitable crying. Ugh. That's the point of the head turn-- avoid the crying.

So, later, as if the throwing isn't enough. Kate shows up from visiting the coloring table with a new breadstick. Where did this mystery breadstick come from? They don't have the friendly old lady passing them out anymore (cost cutting measure), so it's not that. There are several tables nearby, and a helpful lady who told me, "She didn't have that when she walked by a minute ago." But it didn't look dirty, and no one looked mad, so I just hoped for the best. Sam told me that she got it from our table, and I chose to believe the best.

You all feel better about your parenting and worse about mine now, right? Well, no one's sick. Yet.

Tuesday, August 19

I ate two breakfasts this morning. I know, we all do it sometimes. Admit it. I tried to be good and had a 90 calorie special k breakfast bar. Have you seen these things?!! How do they chock all of that nutty goodness into just 90 calories, you ask? Well, I'll tell you. It's called portion control. My 90 calorie breakfast was elfin size.

SO, as I approached work, I considered, rationalized, my need for more breakfast. I didn't have dinner last night (but I did have ice cream). I work out (4 days a week). Breakfast is the best meal to splurge on because you have all day to work it off (sitting at my computer).

I know it's not really a bad mom moment, just a bad me moment. Same.

Invitation

Yes, I admit it, I am a good mom that has bad mom moments. And I believe that everyone has them. They are so funny, in fact, I have decided that it would be best to share them with others-- sort of my own homemade therapy.

Join in. It's a support group of sorts. I'm sure we'll all have something to add sooner or later...