September 19, 2004
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pass the bad mothering award over here…
the girls spent the whole morning preparing their “play,” setting it up and rehearsing, making signs and tickets. I told them I’d attend as soon as I’d had a shower, cause, let’s face it… much as we love our kids, as sweet as the whole thing is, there’s still a measure of pure, unadulterated torture involved in such things.
apparently the whole thing is set to “Sebastion Sings,” which is a spin off tape of The Little Mermaid. for the first three songs, it consists of babyjane dancing while emma appears to sleep. of course, babyjane can’t stay interested that long and comes to sit with me. then diva-emma Can’t Go On and has a full-on spaz. she won’t go forward and I know if we stop the day is ruined for everyone.
and here I am, nearly catatonic myself, trying desperately to feign remote interest in ANY of it. and I can’t really fault emma her paralyzed theatrics… I mean, that’s exactly my own m.o., now isn’t it?
emma does the same things I did as a kid, saying something so quietly it can’t be heard, then when asked to repeat herself, with deep pain in her voice she sighs, “nothing…” AAAAAAAAAAAUUUUUUGH!
and what is it with the whole, I can’t hear anything YOU say the first time? even though I am consciously ennunciating at a decent volume. everything I say in the house has to be repeated, not because they can’t hear me but because they are not listening.
and no one can speak to me without first saying, “mom?” even if I’m looking straight at them, even if we’ve been speaking moments before. “mom?” which requires, of course, a RESPONSE, and can I just say that lately every fucking word saps my spiralling energy?
and the next time I am asked for a snack I swear to all that is holy, I WILL put my head in the oven. fat lot of good it will do. damned electric appliances.
Comments (18)
Oh god. The whole “Hey Mum, we’re putting on a show thing”? Gets old after the first 4.5 times. Generally, I try to arrange a tumble down a flight of stairs or a scissor-blade to the eye or pretty much anything that doesn’t lead to actual death to avoid The Plays of Doom(tm).
As for the repeating? Lord god, do NOT get me started. The thing that makes me insanest of all is that everyone here, including the other adult, asks me to repeat what someone else has just finished saying. “Mummy, can you tell me what Clementine just said? I was too busy reading to pay attention” and “What was Nate saying? I wasn’t really listening” and “Honey, what’d the kids just say? I had my head lodged 12 miles up my ass and missed it.” And I take it all with such very good grace, if we can define that as meaning “like a snarling, slavering cur”.
Oh yeah. I’ll see your bad mothering award and raise you one mother from the fiery pit of hell award.
ROFL.. Oh man.. I relate to this. My daughter being the drama queen she is puts on a play a day. GAH! I finally told her she could only put ONE on a week.
Good Luck with the rest of the day.
we used to do plays and puppet shows. the funniest was making the priest friend of my parents watch us after dinner, HA! I’m sure ours were far more entertianing… of course they were.
the kid, she doesn’t do it as much anymore since I called her out on it, would say something really quietly, then get angry at us for having her repeat it for billion times. I told her I think she does it so she can feel in control, making us ask her repeatedly, it’s a stupid power trip kind of thing. that, of course, made her furious, but it at least worked. mostly.
now when she mumbles under her breath at me I point out how chicken it makes her look, and that if she had the guts she’d just come out and say it. it might not be the right way to handle it, but it keeps me sane. and I suppose that’s in her best interest, too.
you’re okay. kim’s just a bitch. this is part of why i don’t think i can have kids.
the only specific play i can remember my brother and i putting on – though i’m sure there were many – involved me tying one of my hair-ribbons around a raquetball and, at the appropriate moment in the production, clocking him with it in the head, then him ducking back behind the “stage” for a quick-change wherein i tied it to his head, a prop which he wore for the remainder of the play.
Hey fucker, I’ve got bad news for you…
None of this makes you a bad mom.
I say you make a sign, “The answer is no, do NOT ask.” To be worn as needed. Possibly forever.
I get that burn when I’m worn down to a nub but it’s “hey dad”… and I have to hold back or yell ”dammit everyone wants a piece of me!”
Sarah Jane breaks another piece of her costume junk jewelry and shows up wanting it glue fixed and I go ballistic because the shit is left lying on the floor and no wonder it’s broke, and I’m so tired of being mister goddamned fix-it all day long at work and then as soon as I walk in the door at home.
whoops.
i’m gonna go get some condoms on the way home…definitely…
I’m quite sure you’re not the only mother who’s felt this way.
Ugh, and yes. I know what it’s like to wish I wasn’t here. I’m glad you have people in your life worth sticking around for.
Aww, come here darlin’ and I’ll make you a snack. You can sit quietly next to me for a while. And you’re not a bad mom… nowhere have I heard mention even of wire hangers…
Remember that I love you. Then, remember it again.
So much of good parenting is sheer boredom. That’s where I fall down (asleep).
Oh yeah, kids have that special ability to touch you in the most agonizingly vulnerable of places.
Steve
i want transformers
ack!!! I hate the Mumma? Mumma? Mumma? thing too.
I will be looking right at them, nodding my head and they still keep saying Mumma until I say something!! We have the same children. Emma and T are twins, I swear.
MOM?MOM?MOM?MOM? MOMINEEDTOTELLYOUSOMETHING!!
I AM THE ONLY PERSON IN THIS CAR/HOUSE!! You do NOT need to say MOM every time! I ASSUME you are talking to me!!!
AUUUUGHHHHH! I hatehateHAAAAATE that. Drives me insane. I’ve said it before – it feels like they use my name as a weapon to bludgeon me with. And plays? Well, we’re not quite there yet, but can I just say OH THE HORROR. I remember doing them. Watching them will be (one small portion of) my penance, no doubt.
Love you.
Even with an electric oven you could still shrink your head. If you do could I get a little head?
I love the image of you putting your head in the electric oven. love it and know that you are a fabulous mom.
yah, I couldn’t find any traces of bad mothering in the post above. I swear, it’s okay for kids to realize that the adults in their life do not revolve around them. love ya.