Bet you didn’t know I’m a mean Mommy, did you? Yep, that’s me…Mean Mommy. I wear that title pretty well, and I’m pretty damned proud of it.
Sean ratted me out at daycare this morning.
Sean: “My mommy made me mad this morning. She made me cry.”
Daycare: “How Sean-Sean?” (Gotta love that everyone calls him Sean-Sean now…)
Sean: “She made me cry because she wouldn’t listen to me.”
This is the same child who ended up at the office in a time out because he was so bad for his teacher today. Sweet Sean-Sean? Yes, I know, I was shocked too.
He woke up crying, because Mean Mommy made him get out of the bed and try to use the potty. Mean Mommy also made him put on clothes, socks, and sneakers. Mean Mommy gave him a banana for breakfast and couldn’t pull the coveted Brown Sugar and Cinnamon Poptart out of her butt (that’s what happens when little boys get a hold of the Poptarts while Mean Mommy is sleeping on a Saturday morning)…
And that “she won’t listen to me” line? Straight from Aidan…
Aidan (sobbing): “You aren’t listening to me, Mom!”
Me: “Well, tell me again. Help me understand.”
Aidan (wailing): “You don’t understand me, Mom!!!”
Me (confused): “Help me understand. Say it again.”
Aidan (sobbing and wailing): “You just don’t get it!!! You never listen to me!”
Me (annoyed): “WHAT don’t I get, Aidan?!”
Aidan (sniffling): “I didn’t want pizza, Mom.”
Oh holy hell, really?
Mean Mommy makes Aidan do homework, eat dinner, and shower before watching Netflix (no more cable) or play on his Nintendo DS. Mean Mommy requires that both boys pick up (most of) the toys each evening. Mean Mommy doesn’t tolerate whining, complaining, backtalk, attitude, lying, and not listening.
I think I like Mean Mommy…
Aidan: “I got your nose, Sean-Sean!
Sean: “Noooooo! Mommy, make Aidan give me back my nose!”
Me: “Aidan, give your brother back his nose so he’ll stop crying.”
Did I really just say that?
Aidan: “How do you do sux, Mom?”
Me: “Ummm…why do you care about that anyway?”
And, for whatever reason, the conversation stopped there. Hallelujah!
Driving past a cemetery, Aidan: “Is that where they put the dead bodies, Mom?”
Me: “Yes, people who have died are buried there.”
A long pause, I can almost hear the wheels turning…
Aidan: “Are our country’s fathers buried there?”
Wait, what? What followed was a confused conversation about forefathers, dead people, and our country…my head hurts.
Sean: “I colored a picture, Mommy!”
Me: “You sure did!”
Sean: “My daddy is going to be so proud of me!”
Me: “Yes, he is baby.”
He better damn well be proud…
Sean: “Take my picture, Mommy!”
Me: “Ok, baby!”
They have an endless amount of energy…even when exhausted, they will force themselves to keep going. I have to be the Mean Mommy who makes them rest. By the end of the day, it’s more about the rest I need than the rest they need…
Aidan and Sean adore music. Aidan throws his whole body into a song…gyrating his hips (where did he learn that?) and flailing his arms with feet planted (his feet almost never move unless he’s pretending to breakdance). He feels music and expresses it fully with no reservations. Sean is much more reserved – a smile and a booty wiggle is about all he’ll do.
When a good song comes on the radio in the car, Aidan tries to sing along with it…even if he doesn’t know the words. He’s loud and proud like his Mama…Sean is still so little that he only hums along…but with his reserved nature, I wonder if he’ll sing the way he dances…
Sean is my shadow…he wants to go where I go…”Poppy!!” is what I hear when I need to go to the bathroom…”Yes, Mommy is in the potty…can I have a little privacy?” The response is always an emphatic, “No!” even though he doesn’t know what privacy is yet. So, like any good mother, I respond with, “Where’s Aidan? Go find Aidan!” and then promply shut the door behind him and lock it when he runs off.
Aidan is my mimic. He wants to do what I do. Whether it’s cooking, washing the dog, or spraying bug spray, he wants to do it too. But even he has his limits….he will scrub a toilet while I’m wiping down a sink, but he doesn’t want to sweep or clean his room.
Aidan needs to be next to me, almost under me…but he is learning (sort of) about personal space…and sometimes wants his own space. Sean is willing to step over or on anyone in his way to get to my lap. Sometimes I cut out the middle man, and we all pile into the recliner – Sean in my lap and Aidan on the armrest – the Three Musketeers.
I sat in the recliner like that with them right after we brought Sean home from the hospital…and it has stuck. It’s a means of comfort for Aidan. He can “share” me without giving up the spot next to me. Sean just likes us all to be close. I like it because they’re contained for about 15 minutes and I can shut my eyes…
I’m like every other parent on the planet…I don’t have a clue what I’m doing…and I’m probably screwing up my boys in some way I can’t comprehend yet…”I’m this way because my mom locked me out of the bathroom!”…I know there will come a day when I miss the fact that they’re little…I just try to enjoy the good moments and let the less-than-stellar moments roll off my back…
Hopefully, I’m raising boys into well-adjusted, responsible men…