When I tell people I have two little kids and a 16 year old stepson (I don’t lead with my two older stepkids as they live on their own), I get remarks about “what a handful” the stepson must be. Not the case. Oliver wouldn’t know drama if it slapped him in the face and set it’s hair on fire in front of him. He would barely raise his eyebrows.
He is very cool.
He talked more to me when he was little. Now, I welcome any dialogue. No matter how I have to get it.
My sister Carole is here again, so we can talk about how special and wonderful our children are. Or rather, how special and wonderful and brilliant we all decided they are going to be. There are even tests you can give your little Mozart.
Do we go overboard with this stuff? Well, it’s better than neglecting them.
It’s the age old issue…when your kids sleep do you get stuff done or pass out? Do you clean up or go online? Before I do anything, I used to always do a sweep of the house. But, now, not so sure.
Now, I assume that most people who come here are already parents. But, once in a while I hear from some who have not crossed over that threshold. This vid is for you! I find when I have a co-worker or friend who is about to have a baby I spill forth a five minute warning/to do list for any expectant mother. I guess it’s my version of what I feel people withhold from would be moms.
So, here is a shorter version. I didn’t mention everything…like the blood that comes out of you for weeks that no one tells you about. I guess we all need surprises.
Please feel free to add your own warnings and advice.
Sometimes us moms do seem crazy and over-involved. But sometimes that heart line that connects us to our kids causes us to do the right thing. This is such a tale.
What’s the wackiest or messiest thing you have ever done as a parent? Cleaning poo doesn’t count.
The last in my recent series with my mom Morency. The vid speaks for itself so allow me to relate an anecdote that illustrates what a practical, Minnesotan my mom is. Now, I’m sure I will get some of the details wrong and be corrected later, but here is the gist.
Her father passed away when she was 12. Part of how her mother supported the family was to buy big houses and rent out rooms to boarders. This was the 1940s in the Twin Cities. One day my mom came home from high school, and she saw her room had been moved into the dining room. A man had shown up that day and would pay money to rent my mom’s bedroom.
I said, “Gosh, weren’t you upset?”
My mom: “Why would I be upset? My mom got $25 a month for that room. I understood.”
Now, I made up that amount, but you get it. I like when I have flashes of that myself. Practical and unsentimental. Of course, my dad is from Georgia, so I’m also half Southern Gothic. That’s the side that has to stay at home and watch every minute of Ted Kennedy’s funeral,
But back to mom guilt…
Sometimes I interview celebrity moms when they are guests on my TV show “The Fashion Team” on the TV Guide Channel (which, by the way, one needs a divining rod, crystals and jumper cables to figure out when it comes on as it airs now ever other week… usually… on Sunday and Monday nights… mostly). I love the gals I interview, or I wouldn’t ask them to do a bit for Cool Mom. If someone wasn’t fun, I would just skip it. I often ask them about beauty on the go. Or how can us moms not look and feel like crap. Now, I know if I haven’t gotten enough sleep, which I haven’t for almost every day for nearly 7 months now, no amount of spit and polish will make me feel like I look good.
And when I haven’t slept, I usually want to snack on carbs, which makes me feel fat, and I probably don’t have time to exercise, which can make me feel a tad better about Team Daphne.
But, sometimes, I do think, “Hey, I look pretty good.” My husband tells me I look nice when I’m naked. (He did recently have eye surgery so let’s take that with a grain of salt.) And then of course there is the unconditional love given to me by my adorable little kids. Kids love doesn’t see whether their mom is Heidi Klum or Doris behind the wheel of a Honda Odyssey whose pants are about to split. They just see their moms in a shining light. Right?
Oh, my kingdom for back lighting. And a key light… and oh, if only I had some Oprah lightening for Cool Mom.
I digress. My mother Morency is back. t’s funny the differences from what we remember about our childhood and what really happened and how that affects how we are as mothers.
If you remember it wrong do you then parent badly?
Sometimes it cracks me up when I hear friends-or myself- say “well, when I was a kid…” As if we all turned out so freaking fabulous we should emulate our upbringing. Isn’t that what our therapy was for, to undo some of how we were raised?
Still I do keenly remember how my mom handled it when I got out of hand, and I thought it taught me something.
But is my memory faulty?
I was just speaking to my dad. He said his weekend was about air conditioning (it’s been hot and smokey in LA) and the funeral ( Ted Kennedy’s). I said, “Me too!” We hung on the phone with each other for about 30 minutes during the wake Friday night. We have divergent political views, but my dad and I love history and politics and it’s hard not to feel connected to the Kennedys. We were critiquing some of the speeches and who moved us the most. Orin Hatch,charming, Biden, throws his heart on the table, Sen. Culver, very funny (sidebar: during the funeral Saturday morning Ted Jr. won the weepy award. Touching!)
Some of the commentators have been saying that some of the Kennedy’s associates might ask themselves now, “What would Teddy do?”
When I was watching it all, I just wished I had been invited to sail with him. Looks so cool. (Growing up a middle class kid in Culver City we didn’t have a family sport. Wait, I take that back. Figuring out where to go to eat for dinner and having a fight over the one good seat in the family room while “Love Boat” was one, that was sport.) But knowing me, I probably would have yakked.
In my own life as a mother I sometimes say, “What would mommy do?” Thankfully I can ask her. So, this week a special two parter of Morency, my mom.
Remember when before you were a parent, you would see a kid spazz out and think, “Well, those parents should give that kid the what for!” And then you became a parent, and you end up acting like Billy Mummy’s parents in that classic Twilight Zone, “The Good Life,” “Please don’t send us to the cornfield!” Sometimes it’s easier to pretend you are a special ed teacher (not that I have any idea what that is really like), or dealing with sensitive people with traumas. This is one of those times.