Monday, August 4, 2008

Four going on Fourteen

Before I became a mother, I had visions of pretty, perfect babies who slept through the night and breastfed like champs
I saw early, crawlers, walkers, and talkers.
I dreamed of please, thanks you, yes ma'am and no sir.
And then I woke up to a child taking poop out of his diaper, smearing it around, and advising me that "Mmmmm, Mommy. Tastes good."
I'm made of pretty stern stuff (as evidence by the above anecdote which resulted in a few gags and a ton of disinfectant, coupled with some mutterings about Th Man's hillbilly DNA).
But I m nowhere near prepared for adolescence.
Which my four year old, Bug, has glibly skipped over childhood and landed right in the middle of that steamy, fragrant pile.
He tells everyone no, followed by what he will do. Which normally results in my head spinning around and my inner demon coming out.
The child eyes me suspiciously, but isn't smart enough to whip out the cross and Holy water before things get ugly.
No, he thinks diving beneath the furniture is the solution.
You know those stories about moms who can lift cars off of their children?
Not me.
I move furniture to get to my children.
Often one handed.
Leaving one hand free to grope until it comes in contact with a body part--any body part--while I hear myself snarling and snapping, saliva dripping from the corners of my mouth.
Then, while explaining that his brain has evidently stopped functioning for him to think that he could ever get away with whatever infraction he enacted, we sit in time out.
Yes, we.
It's my cooling off period.
Or at least it would be if he would shut his mouth and do the time for his crime.
Nope. He's his mama's boy. He just keeps talking.
Digging a nice deep hole and making my left eye twitch dangerously.
I've taken to meditating on why killing my offspring is frowned upon.
The list is really getting short,
Main selling points? The clean up and the fact that I look awful in prison orange.
So far, those thoughts are keeping the demon contained.
I don't know how long that will last.
But if this is my precursor to having a teen-ager, I'm submitting my letter of resignation effective four years ago.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

my heathens (including DH) kindly refering to my inner demon coming out: "Look out, it's Mommy Monster!" followed by a fit of giggles. Hard to keep snarling after that.