Wednesday, April 18, 2012

What the hell kind of mother ARE you?

The other day I was standing in the grocery store, holding Dude, in my work clothes.

In any other place ON EARTH my work clothes would be, well, just regular work clothes. But here on Maui, in my favorite little grocery store (where shirts and shoes are optional) when I wear a heel any higher than a flip flop, people react as though I have cloven hooves for feet. Add a pencil skirt to the heels, and it just Blows. Their. Mind. 

Add to that the fact that I was balancing a baby, a purse, and an armload of groceries, and I swear to god, you would have thought I was in a ballgown, parting the red sea, and spinning straw to gold. Simultaneously.

I love that the bar is so low here.

As one person after the other remarked on how dressed up I was, or how brave I was to wear heels, or offered to carry my bags or breastfeed my baby so I didn't have to spend money buying all of that formula, I got to thinking: What is the big goddamn deal? Sheesh! Aren't there other moms walking around this store with newborns and high heels and cans of formula in their cart? (This required a quick jaunt across the store looking up every aisle to investigate - the result? Absolutely not. Though I did see one mom rocking a pair of clogs. Who is she trying to impress? Whore.)

I have never really thought anything about what I wear compared to other mothers, or what I do compared to other mothers. I have always just followed my instinct and the rule of law, and hoped for the best. 

The best being survival. 

Like I said, the bar is very low.

Is it so strange to be different? Does it mean I am doing it wrong? And if so, am I okay with that? What kind of mother am I, exactly? Just who the hell do I think I am?

I am the kind of mother who - when asked as a child what she wanted to be when she grew up - always said she wanted to be a mother.

I am the kind of mother who refused to buy a water gun for her kid - until she finally caved. And then brought home the biggest water gun she could find.

I am the kind of mother who spent a year researching the safest toddler carseat, and then strapped it into the passenger seat of a Mazda Miata convertible.

I am the kind of mother that buys chocolate for the candy holidays instead of the cheap crap, because why bother.

I am the kind of mother that carries her 3 month old on one hip, and her 7 year old on the other hip, down the hill in the rain - in stilettos and a mini skirt.

I am the kind of mother that choked on her tea while driving, and as she gasped for breath, handed her travel mug to her son - who sniffed it like he was checking for booze.

I am the kind of mother that took her 3 year old daughter to Capezio in NYC for her first pair of ballet shoes, and let her try them on and hold onto the barre with all of the professional ballerinas.

I am the kind of mother that - when she told her daughter that dinner was going to be chicken nuggets and mac and cheese - was met with a drop-jaw stare and the comment "Mom. That is not like you AT ALL."

I am the kind of mother that sometimes has to go outside and have a smoke get some fresh air all by herself.

I am the kind of mother that sits around in her underpants and doesn't really give a shit.

I am the kind of mother that takes her kids with her to bars for dinner - because bar food is delicious.

I am the kind of mother that doesn't worry about buying organic milk, but insists on organic grapes and organic root vegetables, and hates corn syrup and food coloring unless we're talking about HoHos or red velvet cake, in which case beggars can't be choosers.

I am the kind of mother that hates taking the kids to beaches that don't have a shower to rinse them off afterwards, because she really needs the kids to be clean before they get in her filthy car.

I am the kind of mother that walks past her bedroom that is piled high with laundry and papers and might qualify for an episode of Hoarders, and tells her kids that they have to clean up their rooms.

I am the kind of mother that does not play with toys. Ever.

I am the kind of mother who remembers the toys she loved (or coveted) as a child, and buys them for her kids to play with. Which is why her kids have both a Snoopy Sno Cone Machine and an Easy Bake Oven.

I am the kind of mother that considers Veggie Booty to be a vegetable and has served it for dinner so that there is something green on the plate.

I am the kind of mother that doesn't mind shaving her son's hair into a mohawk.

I am the kind of mother that makes her own BBQ sauce, and cooks hot dogs in beer.

I am the kind of mother that told her kids they couldn't join the soccer league because there was no way she was sitting around 3 days a week and every Saturday morning watching them kick a ball back and forth for hours.

I am the kind of mother that remembers what it was like to be a kid, and hopes her kids are having a better time of it than she did.

I am the kind of mother that doesn't mind being called a MILF.

I am the kind of mother that took her son to the store before he hit puberty and made him choose a deodorant by sniffing every single one on the shelf. And then forced him to use it every day even though he didn't need it yet, just so he would get in the habit. Because, as she explained, she didn't want him to be the stinky kid.

I am the kind of mother that tells her kids to choose a cereal that is on sale and has less then 10 grams of sugar per serving - and then lets them figure it out while she gets the rest of the grocery shopping done.

I am the kind of mother that charges her son for leaving the seat up, and charges her daughter for saying "I know" every time she tells her something. 

I am the kind of mother that loves her kids, but isn't always crazy about other people's kids.

I am the kind of mother that will stop at Krispy Kreme when the hot light is on.

I am the kind of mother that really *wants* to be the mom who bakes her kids elaborate birthday cakes from scratch, but knows she isn't that mom, and has ruined more than one birthday cake at a very inopportune moment. So she bakes a tray of cupcakes from a mix and lets the kids decorate them themselves with big bowls of icing and candy, to ease her guilt.
I am the kind of mother that uses reusable lunchbags, but keeps a case of Ziplocs on hand "just in case".

I am the kind of mother that tells one of her kids that they are her favorite, and then as she gives that kid a hug mouths "YOU'RE my favorite" to the other kid so that neither one of them is really sure who's her favorite. But they are both beginning to suspect that her favorite might be the dog.

I'm the kind of mother that ooohs and ahhhhs over their creations, and then throws about 75% of it away. Because really, how many play dough cookies and hand print turkeys does a mother need to save.

Bottom line - I am the best kind of mother I can be. It might not be good enough for some people, and it may not be "traditional" but it's all I got. 






4 comments:

AKA Jane Random said...

Amen on Little League. What a gigantic suck of family time.

Anonymous said...

Love, love, live this post! Thank you for your eloquent explanation!

Bon said...

I am the kind of mother that charges her son for leaving the seat up, and charges her daughter for saying "I know" every time she tells her something.

Totally swiping this idea.
What IS the going rate for a hefty sigh and muttered "I.KNOW." these days? I'm thinking a beeyun dollars but that might be outside a 12 year old's pay rate.

marcy @ bellanoise said...

Next time you see me in the market, look for my kids in the cereal aisle because I am stealing that trick!