The Theory of Relativity

There is nothing more irritating than having your parenting choices questioned, especially when you know in your heart that you are a Mediocre Mama. Having to explain your choices or decisions and the behavior of your child can make you really defensive. And having it come from family really puts your back up against the wall. So why is it that it is family that always questions your parenting?

When I was oh but a few months pregnant, a family member, aka “Supermom,” posed the following question to me: “What kind of mother do you want to be?”

While standing there and contemplating how my body would change, where to buy my maternity wear, just how much bigger my friggin boobs were going to get, the kind of mother I planned to be was a very distant thought from my mind.

Umm, a good kind? A laid back kind? A drunk kind?

As I noted the stern look in her face it became clear to me that sarcasm and evasive maneuvers would get me nowhere. That’s because you can’t be sarcastic to Supermom, as she may run you down with her minivan and sick her Superkids on you, one performing karate (which he studied on Tuesdays and Thursdays after Hebrew School and T-Ball Practice) and the other whacking you in the head with a soccer ball (which she studied Mondays and Wednesdays between ballet classes and origami sessions). I swallowed down and pulled out the biggest bunch of crap I could muster from my already spreading ass.

Um, well, I believe you need to give kids, um, choices…I could feel my answer whimpering “clueless” from the moment I spat it out of my mouth.

She smiled gently and explained, “Well, you can’t really give them choices because (insert Charlie Brown’s teacher’s voice here) blah blah blah.”

I blanked out pretty much all of what she was saying and I thought the inquisition was over until she turned to Superkids and said, “Superkids, what kind of mother am I? Am I a nice mother or a mean one?”

Superkids dutifully and quickly answer, “A mean one. But that’s good because it means we’re safer.”

Safe from what? I felt dumbfounded. Safe from having five free minutes in their schedule to do something other than beef up their resumes at the age of eight so that they can get into Yale? Or maybe it’s something deeper, some actual physical danger that I will be creating by not being a “mean mama.” Would my mediocrity in life that would inevitably carry over into my parenting style be a certain recipe for chaos and danger?

The whole parenting world was such a mystery and here I was, only a few months pregnant, now worrying whether I would be good enough or mean enough. I had no “plan” for my mothering style, hadn’t read any parenting books and it was clear that I was simply unprepared.

I mean no disrespect to this person (well, maybe a little because this would be a very boring blog otherwise). She’s a very commanding woman, a good friend, and an incredibly competent mother. But this moment was my first bit of clarity on the battle that was to come. This is when I realized that parenting is a war, an “us versus them” situation and that because I entered this fight without a parenting plan, I was almost certain to be a “them.”

Looking back I should have known that I could never be that mean mama, which means I will constantly question my judgment and feel like an ass when the Captain falls on his ass. He climbs on stuff, he puts his hands in Dog’s mouth, he jumps off things, he rams his head into crap (see all other blog posts for more information). Does my mediocrity mean that my child isn’t safe?

Well perhaps he won’t always be safe. But at the same time I like to think he’s bound to experiencing life in a tactile sense and not just through soccer camp and sitting still when told. But maybe that means that the world (and by the world I mean my well meaning and loud relatives) will question the sanity of a woman who lugs her kid all over Europe and won't bother with play dates. So here I am, defenses up, not being mean, and occasionally watching the Captain jump off that cliff. Maybe I don’t have a plan, but at least no one will ever call me mean.