They don’t ALWAYS “hate” me, often times we laugh, make jokes, go on adventures, say nice things to each-other. But sometimes, they hate me. If they are feeling upset at a teacher, they hate me. If they’re feeling worried about how a friend or a classmate treats them, they hate me. If they’re tired, they hate me. If they’re NOT tired, they hate me. If I feed them food, they hate it, and hate me. If I DON’T feed them food, I am the worst. If I tell the older ones to brush their teeth, put on deodorant, take a SHOWER (and to basically not REEK the shit out of civilization)… I am an evil bitch. When I wash my toddlers hair with warm water and tear-free organic and natural soap, they scream at me, as though I am the MEANNEST person to exist on the planet. If we stay home, I am boring and lame and the WORST! If I take them to an expensive professional Baseball game, I am “the worst Mom EVER!” Basically, regardless what I do, or DON’T do… They hate me… not always, but sometimes a little bit, with a sneer, and sometimes with a full-on “I HATE YOUUUUUUUU!” screech.
Here’s what up. I am EACH of my kids PERSON. I have tolerated the WORST from them! Each of them has at one time, not only Barfed AND Shat on me, but have each shown me their ugliest most angry ugly-crying and I have STAYED by their sides. They know this. They don’t think about it, it’s like embedded in their “emotional autonomic nervous system” They don’t have to think about it consciously… they just KNOW that I will go through ANYTHING with and for them.
And during these times, when I am getting called upon to fulfill their impossible wishes, to defy physics, to effect the course of time and to simultaneously let them have WHAT they want and also do my best to help them grow into semi-decent, kind and well-rounded individuals…
When they say “YOU are the WORST. MOM. EEVVVEEERRRR!” I just try to remember:
- Breathe again.
- this kid is upset and they know and trust YOU are capable to HOLD this for them.
- You are a freaking badass bitch of a Mama and your kid Needs you!
And before I know it, they are snuggling me, or telling me they love me and are “sorry”, and we’re giggling about how somebody farted.
Yeah… They hate me, but only because they KNOW… I’ve got them.