By Gerri Graves
“Parents are the bones on which children sharpen their teeth.” – Peter Ustinov
I heard this recently and thought… “How freaking accurate is that?” We romanticize the idea of becoming parents. How we’ll love them to bits, and they’ll return that love three fold, no questions asked. No hoops to jump through, just instant gratification and assumed loyalty.
But (!)… I raised my kids to be independent thinkers, which means they asserted and tested that independence on me.
Lots of arguments and tantrums ensued over the course of their upbringing, well into their adult years. It made being a parent frustrating and tiring at times, but proud of their free thinking. Their advocacy for human rights in many different forms, makes me feel like I’ve done something right.
The theme for the writing squad for the month of January, is new beginnings. I can’t think of a more pivotal time in my life than venturing into motherhood, without an example to lead from. Being reared in a very dysfunctional household myself… I had to wing it.
Here are a few humorous stories of learning motherhood on the fly. For the sake of my children’s privacy, I’ll not include names or pictures… just stories to embarrass them with.
I received a call from my daughter’s school asking me to come to a meeting with the principal. She was only a kindergartner… so I honestly couldn’t see her getting into mischief. I walked into the meeting worry free.
Imagine my shock when the principal advised me that my tiny little daughter was suspended for three days. When I inquired as to why, he advised me that she had beat up a little boy.
What? That can’t be right. She’s a little thing and not prone to violence. I asked her, “Did you hit that boy?” She replied with a nod. When I asked why, she proceeded to tell me that this boy was always hitting her and knocking her to the ground.
“Did you tell the teacher?” I asked. She nodded and further explained that he came after her that day too, but she fought back this time.
I stood up, gathered her in my arms and advised him that he would NOT be suspending my daughter. She had every right to defend herself. I told him she’ll be at school tomorrow and if he had an issue… I’d take it further than this office.
I didn’t hear anything else from him, and I excused her for the rest of the day. We went and had ice cream: A little celebration for standing up for herself.
My son was the last, but had he been my first… he would have been the only. He was more than a handful. Let me rundown a few examples:
He’d just learned to crawl when he mastered the childproof locks on all the cupboards.
He escaped from his daycare at age three via the back door… which had SEVEN locks on it. (First and only one that ever did)
I put all the sweet foods on top of the cupboards to keep them out of his reach. It didn’t take long for him to open both cupboards to the food pantry and use the shelves like a ladder until he reached the good stuff.
His favorite movie was Peter Pan. He’d often watch it while acting out the scenes on my coffee table. I don’t quite know how, but he managed to sneak a pitcher of Kool-aid past me while I was cooking dinner, and into the living room. I hear him scream, “I do! I do believe in fairies!” and then a loud splash and splatter. He had thrown the pitcher in the air and what didn’t get thrown out, was splashed out when it hit the table. Weeks, I tell you, WEEKS later and I was still finding sticky residue in some hidden corner or surface.
Just as I finally managed to clean up that disaster, he pitched a full two liters of soda at his sister. She dodged and it hit the wall. Kablam! Everywhere! They thought it was funny and I was bummed that motherhood wasn’t a thing you could take a paid vacation from.
I had to take him everywhere, as no one would watch him… and I couldn’t leave him unattended for even a second. I left the restroom door open whenever I needed a visit, just so I could keep eyes on him at all times. One time, he dashed past that door and into my bedroom and I’m frantically yelling his name… and he’s being really quiet. It’s then I knew, this was gonna be bad.
You never saw a woman pull up her pants so fast!
I ran to the back bedroom, and he had stripped off all the bedding, dumped a WHOLE BOTTLE of vegetable oil on my brand new pillowtop mattress, and was ‘trying’ to swim in it. Guess he thought he was a fish that day… and I was out a grand. Still crying over that one.
Literally, hundreds of stories just as destructive as those above.
But I think my favorite one, is this one:
He had developed the cutest habit of having all his owies, real or imagined, kissed to make them feel better. All day, every day. We would half the time, just kiss them quickly and absent mindedly… no matter what we were doing, because he was too dang cute.
I’m fixing dinner, and I hear his little voice say, “Owie, OWIE!” and then I hear his dad say, “Well, come here then. Let me kiss the owie.”
A few seconds go by, and then I hear his dad screaming…”Oh my gawd! Oh my gawd!” Followed by very loud retching noises mingled in with a spitting sound.
I ran in there, to see what happened, and his dad was running in circles cursing and vomiting. Concerned, I asked if he was okay… and he explained that he kissed his finger.
“Okay. But then why are you acting like this? You’re freaking me out.”
He explained, in between gasps, that his finger was loaded with the contents of his diaper!
I laughed so hard, I literally fell to the ground. Tears streaming down my face… trying to catch my breath. All the while, he’s making it worse by yelling, “I can’t get the taste of it out of my mouth!”
Ahhh, motherhood. It’s not for the weak. If there was ever a life changing moment, it’s that.
With no experience or any help, I winged it. I made mistakes, like all of us do, but I’m better for it. Grateful for the journey, the laughter and super grateful they’re finally grown. No more kissing diaper dipped fingertips… but still laughing much too hard at my ex’s misery.