Yo mamma
When she was seven, my daughter said to me, ‘Aw, geez, mom, why do you always want to talk about things? Why can’t you just hit me the way other moms do?’
Over the years in my time as a mother I’ve been accused by various parties of being too strict, too lax, of caring too much, not enough, overly- and insensitive… to name but a few fine inconsistencies.
As my children grow and grow, I have a terrible habit of replaying my recollection of me at their age, and so daunted by compassion and wonder and angst remembered. I’m daunted by the impulse to indulge and commiserate. My too overt desire to make them strong and happy in the moment at times undermines the actually required task of helping them move through and past it, equipping them for the bumpy ride ahead.
I’m daunted by the fact that they are so much and not at all me, roots where once I had none, and that of all the traits I could have passed onto them both, pig-headedness is not the one I would have chosen. But there you go.
I’m saddened and relieved by their gradual loss of innocence.
A few weeks ago, after a particularly fierce run-in with child number one, I did a domain name search for mykidsanassholedotcom, and was not entirely surprised to discover it was taken. Later that day, I called my mother to apologise for whatever grief I may have caused her and, only slightly to my credit, kept silent as she eagerly recounted the episodes.
Iwasapparentlyanassholedotcom.
Anyone who claims that having children is a magical joyride does not have teenagers, is lying, or has forgotten what it was like. Nature is kind that way.
And if you can ever get parents to speak honestly about the task, most will agree that spite has a good share of responsibility in the perpetuation of the human race – as parents will speak gloriously of the experience, encouraging their children to have kids of their own so that they too may suffer the blows, and laugh uproariously at the plaints as did their own parents before them (after having sent the grandkids home, whacked out on sugar and loaded up with noisy, flashing toys).
But the most daunting thing of all, rub of rubs, is that despite having deprived you of sleep, social life, even-temper and your once girlish figure, never again will you know such ferocious and unconditional love.
Oh ye who baffle and drive me nuts, I love you like the wind.
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Comment
- You. Totally. Rule.
— Dean Allen Jul 5, 7:43pm # - I’d like to hear an adult child talking to his or her parent about how hard grandparents used to have it, back when there were no flashing toys and sugar was for the wealthy. Ha! Walk uphill through knee-deep snow both ways for THAT!
— Daniel Jul 5, 7:51pm # - Adopt me!
— Amelia Jul 5, 8:13pm # - They tell singles that unless you have had children, you can’t begin to understand what love is, but I assure you that I have had just these sorts of ups and downs with my gerbils.
— Darius Jul 6, 3:33pm # - And the whole being an assmonkeychild just never ends.
The Child Of Mine (CoM for short) managed not to graduate high school this spring, by one lousy credit. She’s making up the credit to get her diploma, and has plans for a design school in Chicago this fall, though…
I have gone from believing the CoM could one day be a Rhodes scholar to a much lower bar. I’m learning to accept that her happiness may depend on her ability of doing what she wants, while sleeping 28 kids to an apartment, and feeding herself once a day at the local fast food joint.
But she can still be a wee assmonkey, even if I do love her…
— roggey Jul 6, 3:46pm # - I am reminded of a saying that I heard when I was younger and disbelieved: “the older you get the smarter your parents become.”
When I was younger I couldn’t believe that my parents were ever ‘cool’ or that they had a life (sex or otherwise): nothing it seemed then existed before I came along. Now, it seems to me that despite the fact that every generation has to make the world over again, there’s nothing new under the sun. How many of us have already seen our childhoods (‘our’ TV shows, movies, music, and fashion) recycled and rethreaded for yet another generation? As an Angry Young Man (how many AYM/W are out there?) I sought to make my world anew. I wrestled with Bloom’s ‘anxiety of influence’ only to discover that “in my end is my beginning” and that – now with 3 children, a house, a job, et al – I am my father. The sad part is that he died 10 years ago and I am not able to acknowledge his impact and repay his love. That’s why I tell my children that I love them as much as I do!
But looking at this from another point of view; this must be why most animals push their young out of the nest. No other animal values youth and innocence like we do. Maybe, just maybe – while I wouldn’t have it any other way – we humans hold onto our children way too long out of some twisted need to ‘protect’ them or to try to ‘return to the garden’ through them. Whether it is our awareness of a past – or the residual trace of the pain of loss – either way it seems to be more about us than them. We want them to love us as we love them: but (and this is the hard part of it)love doesn’t work like that.
— GMR Jul 6, 8:27pm # - The babies, they could happen with writing like that.
— schmutzie Jul 7, 6:17am # - I was directed here via a link from another site. You’ll be interested to know (maybe not) that the US Government FORBIDS ME from viewing your site at work. FORBIDS ME. I had to wait until I got home to see what perverted things you had on here. Boy, was I disappointed. FORBIDS ME.
— Ellen Jul 8, 4:09am # - Blog entry sent directly to my mother, who received the congratulatory remark, “oh good, now you’ll know what it’s like…” from her own mother at the event of my birth.
Am holding off having kids, for fear of hearing those same words. It’s bad enough babysitting and hearing your mother speak using your voice (yet, very few movies portray this halloweenesque occurrence), let alone having it happen ALL the time.
— naomi Jul 10, 3:38pm # - i think you are right!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
— poo Jul 30, 8:15am #
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