Walk the line

July 21, 2009 at 7:37 pm (Parenthood) ()

Right after college, I knew a women who complained incessantly about her son at every gathering I saw her at.  I figured she really regretted having him.  I was completely surprised when she (seemingly purposefully) had a second child. 

I came to realize; she actually liked her son.  Telling what she thought were funny stories at his expense was her way of entertaining people at parties.  I wonder if she knew how she sounded, though.

What mom doesn’t need to vent, really?  What’s a Mommy Blog for, if not this?  I’ve been wondering if I sound like Mrs. Complainer Mom to others.  At work, I know I complained a lot about my kid’s behavior, their bad sleeping habits, my exasperation at PJ biting AJ, again.  Commiserating helps us Mamas and Daddies feel better and bond with each other.  I hope I told enough Proud Mommy Moment stories to make up for it, though.

Actually, in thinking about why I told negitive stories at work, I’m now considering that I was probably subconsciously distancing myself with motherhood to bond with the guys at work.  If you think Moms and Dads are being treated as equals in Corporate America, well, do any of you actually think that?

Recently I’ve heard a few parents call their kids names.  Little Assholes, Little Shits.  Not in front of them, [I was about to add “of course” here, but “of course” it isn’t “of course”.].  They were generally kind people I respect.  It seems to me, if you’re going around thinking your kid is an a*hole, he’s going to pick up on this and act like one

Even calling a child a Brat sends my blood pressure up.  Now certainly, there are times when my kids have been quite bratty.  But calling them Brats sends me leaping to thoughts of stair-stepped dirty snot-nosed little brats in literature and A Modest Proposal by Jonathan Swift.  And I have little problem with GOJ having Barbies (not that I’m going to bring it up), but I DO have an issue with the Bratz dolls.  Maybe they’ll be out of style before she’s the right age.  Could be, right?  She’s not yet two.

On the flip slip, listening to parents go on about the perfection that is parenthood isn’t going to work either.  Sure, it’s OK for a very new mama, or every once in a while.  But after a few gushes about how cute someone’shusband is bathing the baby, or how they can sit for hours and and watch their children sleep… well, I’ll be thinking they should find a hobby.  I’m not a saccharine parent.

Hopefully, my writing will get across that I love my kids bunches, that they frustrate me beyond measure sometimes, and other times I’m so proud of them I have to jump up and down with them just to let it out.


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