Mama B*tch

imagesLast night I was at the mall when I ran into someone who looked so familiar. We made eye contact and said, “I know you from somewhere.” [Pause, head cocked, brow furrowed.]

I got it! She was the girl who got pissed at me at the front desk of the YMCA when she mistakenly took me for the person who snaked her precious parking spot.

That episode happened about a year ago, and with arms full of kids, being in the first trimester, and feeling like I had to regain control of my life somewhere, I started with that girl who wrongfully told me off and I retaliated.

No b*tch slap. No yelling either. But there was swearing. And then there was crying.

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This week as we were waiting for preschool to start, a gaggle of 4-year-olds (mine included) were running little circles at top-4-year-old-speed. I wasn’t bothered, because it was zero f*cking degrees outside and I figured they had to get the wiggles out somehow.

Just when I was admiring the giggly bunch, another mama yelled loud and at length at the kids to stop running. Her kid must have been angelically sitting on her carpet square waiting for class to commence. I can’t recall.

However, being the recipient of a foreign and harsh disciplinary action, my kid lost it. He ran to me crying, clinging to my legs, saying he didn’t like school anymore. I had to run out the door, leaving an anxious kid in the arms of the preschool teacher, disappointed that this happened.

When I picked him up from school a couple hours later, that yeller-mama asked if my kid cheered up about school, and I replied with a heavy dose of condescension, “He was shocked and hurt that you yelled at him to stop running. That’s not how we do it in our family.”

What I almost said was, “Do you even know how much self-control it takes me to not yell at this kid?!? And then you go and waste a good yell on a little ring-around-the-rosie?!? B*tch, please.”

This Mama B*tch is getting harder and harder to contain.


Oh, the third

There is a slippery slope in parenting. When we had our 1st child, we read to him lots of times throughout the day. Absolutely no TV. Organic everything. Lots of photos and videos were taken.

Fast forward to our 3rd. No videos taken capturing her existence during her 21 days of life. In fact, no books read to her, either. And my manifesto not to let her sleep in my bed? That was destroyed 2 weeks ago when we realized she clocks better sleep there (which in turn boots my husband to the couch. Ce la vie.).

Photo of our 3rd child, taken when she was just 2 days old. Not sure we've taken any since then.

Photo of our 3rd child, taken when she was just 2 days old. Not sure we’ve taken any since then.

Many years ago, when my mom had 5 children under the age of 7, my mom lost my then 4-year-old sister at Sea World. My sister had outsmarted her rainbow-wristed leash and walked out the exit gate. She was wandering in the parking lot when some good samaritan brought her back into the park and turned her into the lost and found. They announced they had a missing child. My mom took a head count and eureka! it was hers. My mom hadn’t even realized my sister was missing.

Can you imagine what life was like for her 5th and later 6th children? Those kids taught themselves to do pretty much everything. As for us older kids, they could barely keep tabs on us either. Think Lord of the Flies, but tucked into suburbia.

Our 3rd has been the easiest baby. But I’m starting to see that it’s because we’ve dropped everything superfluous and left only the necessities. She gets fed, clothed, and sheltered. Anything more than that is bestowed on her by the grandparents. And I’d venture to say she’s all the better for it.