Today I am “the worst mom ever”.
Should that be capitalized? I feel it should because “The Worst Mom Ever” is quite a distinction. Apparently I’ve been working toward it for years, only to reach the culmination of my efforts today, approximately fourteen years in the making.
I know, I know. You’re wondering, “What ever did you do to accomplish such a high honor?” I bet you’re thinking I had to go as far as beating the kiddies with wire hangers or leaving them home alone all night with nothing to eat but rice cakes and a little bit of ant spray to cleanse their palates. Nope.
Nor did I try to drown them in the tub or drive off a cliff with them strapped in the back seat. You want to know what I did? I tried to make them have fun.
Gasp! Yes, I know. The horrors that I subject my children to. I should be locked up.
Actually, I’m being unfair. Only ONE of my children has bestowed “TWME” title on me today. The other barely glances up from his phone long enough to notice I’m actually alive.
The other one thinks I plot ways to “ruin her life” in my diary. Okay, maybe I’m getting ahead of myself. Here’s a little background for you.
My husband and son went away for the weekend. A baseball tournament at the beach. My daughter and I couldn’t go because Santa had brought her tickets to a Taylor Swift concert that very same weekend. So, feeling bad that she was missing a beach weekend that would have been a lot of fun, I decided to plan her the best girls only weekend she could ever imagine.
As if seeing her favorite singer in concert was not enough, I took her to see the Minions movie, out to eat at her favorite restaurants, swimming, bowling, to play with her cousins, let her sleep over her cousins’ house, to get her nails done, AND to a painting party. Wow! Sounds like a whole bunch of awesome wrapped up in just a few days, right?
I should actually get “The Best Mom EVER” award, right? Wrong. According to my daughter, I “never do anything with her” and she “never gets to do anything fun”. What, wait! How can that be? You’re the most fun mom ever! Isn’t that what you’re thinking? Me too.
But apparently, I’ve screwed up. I’ve screwed up because today, when my darling dear was exhausted from fun overload and decided to be a nasty beotch to her cousin by name calling, I told her she had to apologize or she wasn’t going roller skating tonight. She told me, and I QUOTE, “I don’t care.”
Lo and behold, it’s time to skate. Guess where we are. Not at the skating rink. Cuz I am holding firm on this one. She’s kicking and screaming and being generally unreasonable, throwing all of the usual arguments in my face like the “you never do anything with me” card.
This usually works and makes me cave because as a working mom with too many balls in the air to juggle, I think this about myself often enough. I always feel like I’m not doing enough.
But this weekend, I know she’s wrong. And damn it, I’m NOT letting her guilt trip me into giving in.
Besides, I kind of like “The Worst Mother Ever” title. It has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?