Crisis parenting is my bag!
September 12th, 2006
I would be a very good mother if my children threw up all the time! Therein lies the problem! My children don’t throw up nearly enough! It is their fault that I am not a better mother!
Hattie Belle has been puking her tiny guts up for three days, and I have to say, this is truly my parenting forte. The girls don’t usually give me the opportunity to shine on a daily basis, but friends, right now I am SHINING LIKE ALADDIN’S NETI POT. I am gently swabbing vomit off her chin, I am tenderly tucking Tupperware under her face, I am adjusting washable pillows and old blankets around her as she stares glassy-eyed at Dragon Tales—
[Hattie throws up again all over the couch and her fourth dress of the day, does not cry because Mommy is Snow White, Julie Andrews-as-Mary Poppins and Julie Andrews-as-Maria Von Trapp all at the same time. The soothing voice! The cheerful mop-up! The endless supply of cuddles and freshly laundered dresses! Why can I not be like this all the time? My children would be so well-adjusted!
Two hours of snuggling and puking and hot-and-heavy koala-bear clinging ensue. Now Babci (The Mater, to the girls) is here. She puts on red rubber gloves and throws some pukey blankets in the laundry and brings me a sandwich. She is good with pukey moments too. Now she is watching Shrek 2 with H. so I can finish writing this.]
—as I was saying—
[The Home Depot guy comes over to measure the kitchen for a new floor. Tells me laminate is not an option because our 1900 floor rolls and pitches like a ship. Real wood, maybe, but not laminate. Hattie successfully eats a piece of buttered toast and sips some ice water as Shrek belches. The Home Depot guy leaves. I let the dogs out. One escapes, then gallops inside with poop stuck to his foot. There are poop crumbles and smears everywhere. I remain cheerful and try to do as Julie Andrews would do. These are Crisis Times!
The dog escapes again through the open back door. I wander down the street looking for him and his poop-slicked foot. I lead him back to the house, hose off the offending paw, go back inside.
The toast has stayed down. The Mater is dancing around in the corner on her cellphone, doing her victory fist-pumping. Something good, clearly, but I see more poop on the floor and have to deal with that before I can ask what’s going on.
A grotesque rumble from the H-bomb. I freeze. She freezes. Nothing. I will let The Mater tell you about her phone call later. I send The Mater for a stroller walk with the H-bomb, a little fresh air. I am sure Mary Poppins would approve, quite sure of it. Spit spot!
Poop sufficiently dealt with. I write again.]
See? The calm? The cheer and pleasant demeanor and good humor?
But for the rest of the week, as soon as she is fine again, I will be an anxious, obsessive, rushed, screechy, shrewish Mommie Dearest, and my inconsistency as a mother will plunge my children deeper into acute head-banging neurosis. I just know it. Explain this to me.
I am really good at talking about death and sex to them too. Sophie and I tackled puberty at least half a year ago, smooth sailing. Piece of cake.
It’s twisted.
Entry Filed under: Uncategorized, Because I said so. (Parenting)
17 Comments
1. candace | September 12th, 2006 at 1:54 pm
Boy, do I feel the pain. Why is it that I’m so very loving and calm and wonderful when they’re *sick* but when they’re well, it seems as if I do nothing right?
I comfort myself with the knowledge that I’m not a “fair weather” mommy. If that’s not rationalization and justification, I don’t know what is.
2. mamatulip | September 12th, 2006 at 2:43 pm
Yeah, I’m always surprised at how I rise to the occasion in times of crisis and come off like SUPER MOM but the rest of the time? I barely have my shit together.
3. Mother Chaos | September 12th, 2006 at 3:11 pm
Oh, Lord. The things we mothers can coolly manage…and the things we can’t.
The day I found myself catching vomit with my hands in a Taco Bell and was way more concerned about the vomiter than the state of my hands or the comfort of anybody else in the building or what they thought of me, my children or anything else for that matter, I knew a line had been crossed.
I can handle blood, guts, poop and all manner of icky-ucky gushing oozing whatnots from my children. I can even handle wee hour nightmare issues and early morning ‘but I can’t sleep’ calls fairly well.
But let me step on a stinkin’ Lego in my bare feet? WHO left this here and ARE you trying to kill me DON’T you love YOUR MOTHER, who has done SO MUCH for you, at ALL?!?!?!
4. Simon | September 12th, 2006 at 3:42 pm
“I let the dogs out.”
FINALLY! Now we know who.
5. Woman with Kids | September 12th, 2006 at 4:08 pm
Could you come deal with the Boys the next time they’re sick? I can handle anything - broken fingers, blood, gashes to the head, but vomit does me in. The sound makes me join them. Apparently it’s not very comforting to have mommy throwing up beside you.
6. geogirl | September 12th, 2006 at 5:40 pm
It’s not twisted at all. My mother use to talk about this all the time.
You feel you are at your best during these times because they give you a clear and simple task to perform with easily measurable results. Let’s see…kid throws up. Kid still alive? - check. Puke cleaned up? - check. Clean clothes? - check. Instantly you know that you are the best mommy in the world. On the other hand…when they are sitting there happily playing with their dolls your achievements are not so easy to discern. You start worring about what is she thinking or feeling or learning. You have no idea what is going on or if you are doing the right thing.
I’m sure you are doing much better than you think during the non-crisis times. The problem is that you won’t know for sure until say…she graduates from college without ending up in Jail or a strip club.
7. CrankMama | September 12th, 2006 at 5:49 pm
I find illness less of a grind than the daily daily… so you’re not alone, sis!
8. mom on a wire | September 12th, 2006 at 6:53 pm
Anyone who can talk about how freaking awesome AND neurotic they are in one post is my kind of lady.
9. Beth | September 12th, 2006 at 8:29 pm
You’re totally right. When Sam gets sick I am patient and kind. I am caring and sweet and comforting. The he is well and I am…well, how I usually am.
10. Spot the Wonder Dog | September 12th, 2006 at 10:44 pm
*cough cough* Munchausen Syndrome by Proxy *cough*
11. Kristin | September 13th, 2006 at 1:05 am
I just loved your masterful use of the word shrewish.
12. Mom of 1 | September 13th, 2006 at 10:18 am
Yep. With ya. It’s the boredom of the daily grind that wears on me. At least puke is something different for a day or two.
As I type this, my inner child is screaming and running to a Carribean Island where she can play and flirt in her little bikini and NOT clean up puke or be eye-crossing bored.
13. R J Keefe | September 13th, 2006 at 3:10 pm
Try my “overactive imagination” theory - something I learned from my faulty immune system. In absence of crisis, you imagine things, but when pathogens are introduced you have definite, visible (and demanding!) tasts to fulfil! The world is a simpler place because your imagination has been silenced by reality.
14. Susan | September 13th, 2006 at 10:11 pm
My son once vomited VanDeKamp’s fish sticks all over my favorite cashmere sweater and I didn’t bat an eye. Today the SAME child wiped his glazed-donut hands on my khakis and my head snapped clean off.
Go figure.
15. Jenny | September 14th, 2006 at 3:25 pm
Woman, I have done a full-on belly slide across my Pergo to catch a child’s vomit IN MY OWN CUPPED HANDS rather than allow them to besmirch my new couch.
That’s love. And also mad parenting skills.
16. J | September 14th, 2006 at 5:47 pm
Reading the comments,it’s interesting to see how many of us are just the same.
17. Susie | September 15th, 2006 at 4:58 pm
Ugh. I haven’t had to deal with vomit yet - he’s on a 2 year streak vomit-free *knock on wood*. But vomit makes me want to run. Very. Far. Away.
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