Punk Rock Parenting
It was one of those mornings. We have a lot of them at my house, but not always, so today was typical, I guess. Lots of scurrying around, lots of not eating breakfast, lots of complaints about packing gym clothes and lunch and homework. We finally made it to the car and the windows needed to be scraped. Argh. I actually broke my ice scraper this winter and I have not replaced it. I have been using a CD of some crappy female pop star that ended up in my car. So I grabbed it, scraped the windshield and got back in.
"That's not my CD is it?!" complained Mary from the back seat who was mad at me because I had not made her a lunch that day.
"No. It's not," I said, trying to be calm. To stay calm, I drew on all of my years of experience with parenting children.
Infants have screaming fits where they are inconsolable - diaper changes, feedings, walking, nothing makes a difference. You get to the point that you are ready to toss them out the window (I did not understand child abuse until I had my own child.) and then the infant falls asleep for four hours or smiles at you and you forget it all. Toddlers are unreasonable and will stick their hand in the peanut butter jar and smear a fistful of peanutbutter on the floor or scream or tear a book that you love and you will consider walking out the door and never coming back, and then they wrap their chubby arms around you and say, "I wuv you, Mommy," and you are filled with a love that overwhelms you and makes you feel bad for ever being fed up with the toddler. Teenagers will make you crazy with their eye rolls and smart mouths and complaints and bad attitudes. And then they say,
"Can we listen to my Ramones CD?"
My heart began to thaw. I slid the CD in. The punk rock filled the car. We sang along.
"I wanna be sedated..."
And although 1 minute ago I wanted to be sedated? Now I am happy and singing and smiling.
"Have a good day, kiddo," I said outside the middle school.
"You too, Mommy."
And I hit "back" so I could listen and sing along to the song again.
"That's not my CD is it?!" complained Mary from the back seat who was mad at me because I had not made her a lunch that day.
"No. It's not," I said, trying to be calm. To stay calm, I drew on all of my years of experience with parenting children.
Infants have screaming fits where they are inconsolable - diaper changes, feedings, walking, nothing makes a difference. You get to the point that you are ready to toss them out the window (I did not understand child abuse until I had my own child.) and then the infant falls asleep for four hours or smiles at you and you forget it all. Toddlers are unreasonable and will stick their hand in the peanut butter jar and smear a fistful of peanutbutter on the floor or scream or tear a book that you love and you will consider walking out the door and never coming back, and then they wrap their chubby arms around you and say, "I wuv you, Mommy," and you are filled with a love that overwhelms you and makes you feel bad for ever being fed up with the toddler. Teenagers will make you crazy with their eye rolls and smart mouths and complaints and bad attitudes. And then they say,
"Can we listen to my Ramones CD?"
My heart began to thaw. I slid the CD in. The punk rock filled the car. We sang along.
"I wanna be sedated..."
And although 1 minute ago I wanted to be sedated? Now I am happy and singing and smiling.
"Have a good day, kiddo," I said outside the middle school.
"You too, Mommy."
And I hit "back" so I could listen and sing along to the song again.
posted by Lea at 7:07 AM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home