Saturday, May 19, 2007

Week in Review

I just noticed a good mommy being too hard on herself, so I decided it was time to get real about the kind of mommy I was this past week:

Signs I have been a bad Mommy this week:

I just noticed a plate from Sunday dinner at the bottom of the stack of dishes I'm finally getting a chance to finish up.

There are also, on my table, paper bags and disposable cups from both Wendy's and McDonald's. Not only that: After I picked up McDonald's for the two little ones last night Melody and I got take-out salads and hazelnut 12-grain bread from Kneaders and ate them ourselves.

I did not have a night home the entire past week. Until last night. When I finally picked up my kids at nine and took them over to Melody's to eat on her front lawn. We got home home at quarter to ten.

My children have no clean clothes. (Except for the boys, who do their own laundry. The fact that they do their own laundry should go under the good mommy category.)

There have been times this week when I didn't know where my children were. I had a good idea what friends they were with and of course they were fine, but I honestly didn't know.

Signs I have been a good Mommy this week:

When my daughter got mad at me (because I am trying to teach her she cannot take other people's things--her brother's longboard--without asking) and ran away to the stripper's ex-family again I followed her and brought her home. Even though that was the hard thing to do and I often think she'd be better off with someone else anyway (just not that someone else).

When my daughter screamed at me that she hadn't left her flip-flops at a friend's house because she hasn't done that for 4 billion years and then not five minutes later asked me to drive her to her friend's house so she could get her flip-flops I did not slap her. In fact I didn't even want to slap her. Without yelling myself I calmly told her she owed me a HUGE apology and said that whether or not she chose to give it she still knew she was out of line and being completely unfair. And I actually meant it when I told her I loved her as she got out of the car when I dropped her off at school after she had made us both late.

I managed to attend two more concerts on the the third week in the first half of May in which my presence was required at Provo High on consecutive nights. And I enjoyed them without thinking too much about Sunday's dishes still on the table. I also managed to make it to as many softball games each week and cheer on a daughter who loathes me. (Not to mention sit through some patheticly sorry softball).

I paid $25 of my own money to protect my son from buying a car that although it appeared to be a sweet deal would really have been more of a liability than an asset. I am still trying to believe him when he told me he wasn't disappointed.

It's 9:30 Saturday morning and although I have been invited to a Pampered Chef party I'd like to attend (and after which I really wanted to go visit b.) I am going to stay home and try to put some of the pieces of my crazy busy life back together. Not so much for me, but for my kids who deserve a little sanity as they enter the last week of school and get ready for "summer vacation." (Even though a good part of the insanity around here is a direct result of my trying to be everywhere and everything for them.)


sarah k. said...

Your daughter doesn't hate you. Man, if you can keep not yelling and just responding rationally, with the expectation of apologies and respect, she will learn how to emulate you, and show her love without acting rebellious. Have you read "Christlike Parenting" by Glenn Latham? This was just like one of his roleplays. I think you handled it perfectly.

compulsive writer said...

Oh sarah, this was a good day. I am not always that mature. The sad part was that even though I handled it well in this particular instance she remembers it differently. Later that day she accused me of having yelled at her. Which I did not. Sometimes it all seems so futile, you know?

b. said...

Oh, c-dub. I wanna be you. I don't know how to be a girl mommy. Great Post and Great Label.

La Yen said...

I cannot believe that she asked you to go get her the flipflops! I forget how incredibly retarded the brains of adolescent girls are.

What if you institute the rule of "Anyone who yells at Mom for any reason has to do the dishes immediately."

And they don't get to use your gloves.

Azúcar said...

Excellent post CW!

Azúcar said...

p.s. have you read "GET OUT OF MY LIFE, but First Could You Drive Me and Cheryl to the Mall"?

I haven't, but I think that's one of the best book titles ever.

compulsive writer said...

b. My point is I don't know how to be a girl mommy either.

And thanks La Yen for reminding me this is normal. It's so easy to start to believe that either you have a defective child or that you are a defective mother. Or both.

Azúcar, that is right up there with one of my personal favorites: "She Got Up Off the Couch: And Other Heroic Acts from Mooreland, Indiana."

Queen Scarlett said...

LOVE this post.

Somebody (CW) needs to publish.

sue-donym said...


And La Yen is right, brain function ceases to exist between the ages of 11 and 18 years. So don't sweat it. I was one of the worst, and my mom just loved me through the whole thing. You are doing great!

b. said...

I'm thinking you're doing very well.