As moms we try to set the best example and say the right thing when raising our children. We have the best intentions, but sometimes lack of sleep, set of circumstances or just the plain old stress of parenting gets the best of us.
Have you been there?
With three boys, I certainly have.
Being a mom has given me the opportunity to put together sentences that I could never in a lifetime fathom that I would speak.
Mom: “Hi, honey! How is everything going over there?”
Me: ” Okay. What’s new with you? CAN YOU BOYS BE QUIET? I’M ON THE PHONE! Sorry, Mom.”
Mom: “Well, today on Doctor Phil, he had this couple on, you wouldn’t have believed it…”
(COMMOTION AND NOISE IN THE BACKGROUND)
Me: ” Wait would you hold on a minute mom, GET THAT SPATULA AWAY FROM THE CAT! Okay, sorry mom, you were saying?”
Mom: “Never mind honey, maybe I should let you go…”
Me: “Okay Mom. I’ll call you back.”
Having three boys in the back seat of the car while you are driving always makes for warm memories and insightful conversation…
Marc (to Rocky): “Stop touching me with your knee!”
Rocky: “Am not! Stop touching me with your knee!”
Marc: “Are so. Stop it.”
Kevin: “You guys are breathing on me.”
Rocky: “I’m not breathing on you, Marc is!”
Marc: “Uh-Uh, Rocky, you’re breathing on him!”
Rocky: “Am not! You are!”
Kevin: “You’re both breathing on me…and you’re too close Rocky, stop touching me!”
Me: “OKAY, EVERYONE JUST STOP TOUCHING EACH OTHER! AND STOP BREATHING!!
Notably not the best advice…but somehow it worked. Well, the kids didn’t stop breathing (Thank God) but I did put an end to the “Touching – Breathing war.”
My mom has always been a class act. She is no longer surprised, or even shocked by my kids, my elevated voice or the bizarre things the come out of my mouth, although she didn’t handle things in the same manner when I was growing up.
One day, my mom was on the phone with a friend when an argument between my sister and I broke out in the livingroom. This was back in the day when you were chained to the kitchen phone by a short phone cord.
I can’t remember what it was that my sister and I were arguing about, but I can remember the scene like it was yesterday. As our voices heightened, my mother didn’t change her expression, pause the conversation or even let on that there was a situation arising in her home.
My mother just continued talking and reached for the nearest available item. She picked it up with one hand without skipping a beat.
She leaned into the hallway where she had a clear shot into the living room. When I glanced over, all I could see was her arm above her head spinning like she had a lasso.
I had no idea what she was holding, yet she continued her conversation with a smile.
The argument with my sister resumed and our voices got even louder.
To both of our surprise, my sister and I simultaneously got hit in the head by a flying object.
We were immediately silenced as we stared at the loaf of Wonderbread at our feet, realizing what it was that hit us. (Damn, my mother is a good shot!)
Then, as girls often do, we broke out into laughter.
I could no longer remember what I was so upset about and I doubt that my sister could either.
Funny thinking of this now and considering my current style of parenting…
I could certainly save myself a ton of ridiculous sentences and a hoarse voice, with a trip to the bakery and a round of Lasso Lessons.