The Meanest Mom in the World

Perhaps you haven't yet heard the news, but I've recently been awarded the highly sought-after title of "Meanest Mom Ever" by my five-year-old sons, Lukas and Jasper. Here's a sampling of my actions that got me in the running, and ultimately won me my "meanest mom" medal:

- After taking the kids to go swimming with one of their best pals after school, I made them leave "too early" to go home for dinner.
- I actually made them stay at the pool "too long" because they were already hungry for dinner by the time we left.
- The snack bar at the pool didn't serve any foods that my kids like.
- I was unable to make the radio play the same song twice in a row on the drive home from the pool.
- It is too late in the season for us to become members at the pool ourselves (we went as guests).
- The kids don't swim as well as their friend (who can do the butterfly stroke at age 5).
- After reminding them several times that the consequence for not listening at bedtime was no bedtime story, I did not read them a bedtime story.

Meanest. Mom. Ever.

WANTED
For cruel and unusual mothering

While clearly the kids were being a bit ridiculous (um, overtired and over hungry much?), the truth is that I was not my best mom self yesterday. Lying in bed and contemplating my new status that night, I had to admit that I hadn't exactly been trying my hardest. That I haven't been trying my hardest in general lately. There was a time when Luke and Jaz were toddlers and it suddenly dawned on me that I couldn't really control their behavior anymore. Not that I ever could control it entirely, but for a long time (their whole infancy) I had a kind of magic power over them, just by being their mom. They were happy simply to be in the same room with me (and my breasts), and I could easily solve any moment of grumpiness simply by smiling at them (and offering a boob). But then they turned into toddlers, and I turned into moldy bread. Well, maybe it wasn't that extreme but I definitely lost some of my magic. I mourned this loss deeply. I had not seen it coming. I naively thought that my mom magic would last forever.

But the thing is--and this is what I was thinking about while lying in bed last night--that I do still have some magic. It's just that it's a kind of magic that requires a lot more energy than simply smiling or lifting my shirt. I have to play. I have to pretend. I have to make everything (finding shoes, putting them on, getting in the car, buckling car seats, etc.) into a game. And sometimes it's just easier to think "I have no control over them," "nothing I do matters," "they're insane and irrational," than it is to exert the energy it takes to switch myself into playful parenting mode. I've been finding myself getting grumpy and frustrated with the kids a lot lately, and while I don't think my feelings are unfounded or nonsensical, I do think I've been a bit neglectful in that I've been forgetting to try and have fun. Despite the whining. Despite the complaints. Despite the ridiculous requests. And, now that I think about it, that's probably what the kids were getting at when they told me how mean I was.

So, the goal for tomorrow is to have fun. To be silly. To really try. And maybe I'll have lost my new title by the end of the day, but I think that's actually okay with me. As long as I don't have to give back the lesson that came with it.