along comes jo frost, aka supernanny to prove me wrong. then right. then wrong. here's how last night's ego stroking went:
i put my kids to bed, pour a glass of red and and slip into my smug uniform. tonight she is featuring marine biologists living in hawaii with two boys ages 3 years and 18 months old. so i think to myself "what could be so bad? they look like normal people. they have a super cute red-headed boy. and they live in hawaii which is paradise, no?" wrong! one boy shrieks so badly their neighbors have called the police not once but twice and their main instrument of baby-proofing is the bungee cord. (maybe this is the duct tape of the pacific?)
people! what is wrong with you? don't you know anything? how can you save the ocean's wildlife from extinction if you can't even deal with your own offspring? ha! my kids are in bed, i say to no one in particular. i'm drinking wine at 9:30. my lunches and bottles and coffee are all set up for the morning. by the time you get those rugrats to sleep i could be schnockered. you just gotta get yourself some cojones and deal, yo.
then the mom talks about how she's exhausted. and frustrated. it's just easier for them to give in. (isn't it always?) suddenly i'm feeling a bit uncomfortable in my uniform of smugness. the collar is feeling a little restrictive and it's getting warm. exhausted? yeah, been there. frustrated? done that. give in? yes, on occasion. alright, more often with the boy because he's headstrong and persistent. then i remember where i was a week ago, chasing a two year old boy around priceless works of art in a museum, muttering things under my breath all in the name of culture.
it seems i'm not supermom. just average mom, much like marine biologist mrs. smith. i've just had the luck to get my kids on a bedtime schedule sooner rather than later. but things get pretty hairy around our house sometimes so maybe we would benefit if someone came in and gave us a couple of pointers.
then the 3 year old slaps the mom in the face. and suddenly, i'm back to my smugness. my kids never did that, i say to myself. jo reminds mrs. smith to get to the same eye level as the child. i do that! give him a warning, she advises. i do that too! then carry out the action you warned about. that's me! that is so totally me!
but what goes around comes around, i remind myself. and while i lounge around in my smug duds, judging another mother, i remember that this feeling of superiority may very well be the reason the terrible two's are kicking my ass (or maybe it is the reason i have gray hair, fine lines around my eyes and acne at the same time).
i decide i can't take the roller coaster of good mom/bad mom emotions so i change the channel and pour another glass of wine.
i put my kids to bed, pour a glass of red and and slip into my smug uniform. tonight she is featuring marine biologists living in hawaii with two boys ages 3 years and 18 months old. so i think to myself "what could be so bad? they look like normal people. they have a super cute red-headed boy. and they live in hawaii which is paradise, no?" wrong! one boy shrieks so badly their neighbors have called the police not once but twice and their main instrument of baby-proofing is the bungee cord. (maybe this is the duct tape of the pacific?)
people! what is wrong with you? don't you know anything? how can you save the ocean's wildlife from extinction if you can't even deal with your own offspring? ha! my kids are in bed, i say to no one in particular. i'm drinking wine at 9:30. my lunches and bottles and coffee are all set up for the morning. by the time you get those rugrats to sleep i could be schnockered. you just gotta get yourself some cojones and deal, yo.
then the mom talks about how she's exhausted. and frustrated. it's just easier for them to give in. (isn't it always?) suddenly i'm feeling a bit uncomfortable in my uniform of smugness. the collar is feeling a little restrictive and it's getting warm. exhausted? yeah, been there. frustrated? done that. give in? yes, on occasion. alright, more often with the boy because he's headstrong and persistent. then i remember where i was a week ago, chasing a two year old boy around priceless works of art in a museum, muttering things under my breath all in the name of culture.
it seems i'm not supermom. just average mom, much like marine biologist mrs. smith. i've just had the luck to get my kids on a bedtime schedule sooner rather than later. but things get pretty hairy around our house sometimes so maybe we would benefit if someone came in and gave us a couple of pointers.
then the 3 year old slaps the mom in the face. and suddenly, i'm back to my smugness. my kids never did that, i say to myself. jo reminds mrs. smith to get to the same eye level as the child. i do that! give him a warning, she advises. i do that too! then carry out the action you warned about. that's me! that is so totally me!
but what goes around comes around, i remind myself. and while i lounge around in my smug duds, judging another mother, i remember that this feeling of superiority may very well be the reason the terrible two's are kicking my ass (or maybe it is the reason i have gray hair, fine lines around my eyes and acne at the same time).
i decide i can't take the roller coaster of good mom/bad mom emotions so i change the channel and pour another glass of wine.
2 Comments:
Cheers! you certainly don't have to worry, I think you are an excellent mom (& friend) :)
:yougo2blink:
back atcha!
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