Posts Tagged ‘mother of the year’

Mother Guilt

July 25, 2014

trophy

If you’re a mother, you get this.  It’s very real.  So real it’s tangible.  Guilt that only mothers can have, get or put on themselves.

Three years ago, I dutifully accompanied the Colombian princess to her first American dental appointment.  After the x-rays and examination, the dentist handed me a sizeable Mother Guilt trophy explaining that her Colombian fillings were of poor quality and ALL needed to be replaced.  She had multiple cavities that would need to be filled immediately and there was so much work necessary that we would have to take her to a pediatric specialist to put her under for the procedures.  He had the nerve to ask if she brushed her teeth.  He meant AT ALL!  If nothing else, my little girl is diligent with personal care tasks.  She is the most regular flosser in our house, I’ll have you know, Mr. 24-year-old not-shaving-yet white coat!!

After listening to his entire money-hungry spiel, I inquired the location of the cavities.  As I suspected, they were all on baby teeth AND they were all minor.  With the referral slip in hand, I slipped out of the office and took the princess home to her father.  Being fully versed in dental procedures and examinations, together her father and I ascertained that the Colombian fillings were just fine and we wiggled all the baby teeth with cavities.  We noticed they all got more wiggly as we took turns wiggling them. Nope, not fixing them.

This is a translation for those who aren’t mothers.

What dentists say: “Your child has cavities.”  What a mother hears: “You are not taking care of your child.”

What dentists say: “There are two types of fillings.” What a mother hears: “There are $250 fillings that good mothers choose, and $75 fillings that bad mothers choose.”

What Dentists say: “Is your child flossing?” What a mother hears: Are you concerned at all about the health of your child?”

What Dentists say: “Is your child brushing after each meal?” What a mother hears: “If you haven’t taught her to BRUSH HER TEETH, what the heck are you doing all day long?”

What Dentists say: “She hasn’t been in for a long time.” What a mother hears: “Why are you a mother at all?”

This entire dental event had me swear off my motherly duties of dental visits.  Period.  I somehow forgot the six month check ups… for two years.  It’s easy to block episodes that cause Mother Guilt.  Finally, after almost all of her baby teeth had fallen out, I made an appointment for her with her FATHER to go back to that horrible place.

Her appointment was this morning at 8:00.  By 9:40 I had not heard from them and was envisioning my little Colombiana strapped in the reclined chair, wearing a bloodied paper bib with tears running down her little cheeks into her ears.  Just then my husband called and relayed that they were at Denny’s having breakfast.  He casually mentioned that she had NO CAVITIES! WHAT?  And I wasn’t there to receive my Mother of the Year trophy!!!  When they got home, she reported that they put fluoride on her teeth and told her not to eat anything for 30 minutes, but that Daddy took her to Denny’s anyway.  Nice!  Father guilt doesn’t even exist!  If her fluoride wore off with a Jr. Grand Slam, it is SOOO not this mama’s fault!

The Mother Sash

October 7, 2013

On facebook I read a post from a pious guy complaining about young mothers posting “ridiculously disgusting” news of children going potty for the first time,  doing their first doody in the potty and so on.  I almost commented that 30-something years ago, if facebook had been around, HIS mother would have been posting the SAME thing!  If you’ve never been a mother, you don’t get it.  At all.

There isn’t a sash with badges for mothers, but if there were, the MY KID WENT IN THE POTTY badge would be worn proudly and loudly in a prominent location on that sash.  It is a rite of passage.  And many other mothers would cheer loudly and proudly right along with the new badge toting mother, knowing what she went through to earn that iron-on emblem!

My eldest turns 20 in two weeks and I remember the day LIKE IT WAS YESTERDAY when I would have earned my first of three “My kid went poopy in the potty” badges.  Not trying to embarrass my eldest, but children whose mothers have blogs are stronger for it!  My husband and I conversed on the appropriate bribe before we settled on the much sought after gummi bear.  We bought a jar with a sealing lid for the shelf above the toilet and filled it with gummy goodness.  We explained the rules, because all of life’s great advancements have rules.  1 poopy in the potty = 1 gummi bear.  Easy peasey.

gummy bears

My husband arrived home on the first gummi bear award winning day and the jar was already empty.  M-T!   Unbelievably, he accused me of eating the gummi bears.  I understood his accusation, as I had in the past eaten ALL the chocolate chip cookies in the cookie jar… and all the rice krispie squares in the pan.  (No, wait.  That was HIM!)  Motherhood is stressful at times.  However, I denied the accusation and explained the newly discovered talents of our little bomb-dropping angel.  She could do one little teeny eensy weensy doo-doo and then hop off the potty, “ALL DONE!”  She deserved every gummi bear she ate.  What skill!  What control!  Time for a new rule!

This is facebook worthy news that should be celebrated by at least half of humanity despite Mr. That’s-Disgusting’s opinion.

The other imaginary badge on my imaginary sash that I remember earning with pride was the “All my kids can barf in the toilet” badge.  THAT is an accomplishment!  It saves time, money, hassle, midnight sheet changes, etc. etc. etc.  In the early years of mothering, these tasks are paramount to parenting!  Nothing could make a young mom happier.  NOTHING!  And to be recognized for our accomplishments in bringing about these world changing events would have been awesome.  But no.

The moral of the story is: next time a young mom posts on facebook about a child’s success in the bathroom, congratulate HER with much fanfare.  It is her life.  It is her mission.  It is her mission accomplished at that juncture in life!

(I apologize if you can’t ever eat another gummi bear without thinking about my angel.)

ICE ICE Baby

August 22, 2013

Yet another trip into Walmart to complete my day.  I swear we should have bought stock in that store when it opened!  It doesn’t matter if I have a list…. and I remembered to bring my list…. and I buy EVERYTHING on my list…. I still need to go back to Walmart later that same day for SOMETHING still in the dang store.  It’s true.  The store sucks me in.  Every time.  Like a fly to flypaper.  Why do they have so many stinkin things that I think I need?  Or the kids need?  Or my husband needs?  Or the dogs need?  Good gravy.

It was a non-list-quick-trip that hardly called for a cart.  But then, it was 12:30 p.m., and we all know what that means.  The rotisserie lemon-pepper chickens that came out of the slow cooker at 8:45 a.m. are now HALF PRICE!  “Go get us a cart, son.”  Glory be.  There were five plump birds with my name all over them.  I always hate it when someone comes and stands in line behind me when I’m filling up the entire bottom of the cart with scrumptiously delicious smelling game hens with $2.98 stickers on them.  No, I won’t share.  I have four children, a husband and two dogs, for Pete’s sake.  And I don’t have to cook the birds.  Hello!  We live in Phoenix.  Not turning on the oven is a prime idea for eight months of the year.  I never make eye contact with other shoppers when I’ve hit the poultry prize.

With the cart full of discounted dinner, we grabbed the few other things that I really came in Walmart for…. fish for fish tacos, avocados for fish tacos, cabbage for fish tacos and cilantro for fish tacos.  I was drooling simply thinking about lunch!  Then, lo and behold, the ICE drinks were in a HUGE display right at the front of the store… sucking me in again.  Pink grapefruit ICE drink will be served in heaven, people.  I prefer to purchase this pop at Costco in a case, but we weren’t in Costco with the cases.  We grabbed 12 of the skinny bottles (that are ridiculously easy to knock over) and headed for the cashier.

ICE

The clouds parted, the skies opened, and we had less than 20 items for the express lane!  (Because 12 ICE drinks are ONE item….. ICE drinks. Thankyouverymuch!)  While we patiently waited for the kind elderly lady to scan our groceries, my extremely helpful son was unloading the cart onto the non-conveyor belt counter….. the cart of skinny, easy to knock over bottles of ICE.  Yes, you guessed it, one went down.  And it didn’t go down pretty.  It went down with a BOOM and a pressurized fountain and a shriek or two and then a shower for my three family members and an elderly cashier.  The front of my dress was soaked …. soaked through to my bra.  ICE ran down my arms and legs.  It was splashed on my head and face.  My purse was dripping, as well as my daughter, son and the not-so-kind-anymore cashier.  The walls of the lane on both sides were drenched.  The floor was a lake of grapefruit.  All the groceries on the non-conveyor belt were wet.  I still can’t believe how one little bottle of juice did that much damage.

The poor cashier did not see the humor in the situation as I have learned to see over the years of having four children and ridiculously embarrassing messes happen in my presence because of my four children.  We mopped up as much as we could, but our lane was shut down, blocked off with a cart and paper towel was spread far and wide.  When we were finally done paying and dripping, I remarked to the little old lady, “Well, I hope your day goes better from here on out!”  Haha….  Not so.  She snapped back, “It BETTER!”  Made me chuckle.  Maybe she had a big date after her shift????