Mean Mommy

I am a Mean Mommy.

Ask my kids. They'll tell you. Even Joanna, who, at two years old, doesn't really know what "mean" is, even Jojo can hear and repeat what the big kids say. "Poo, poo Mommmy", which in toddler-speak, means, "Mommy, you stink."

"Mommy, you are mean."

I'm sort of over it, most of the time. I didn't have kids to win popularity contests (although I will admit to the addicting and incomparable feeling of pure adoration from a baby's eyes. and how when that fades, it's heartbreaking). I know my kids love me. Lately, though, they don't always like me.

Today, for instance. In the 4,784th Clash of the Clean, I told the kids to tidy up, because the cleaners would be coming in the morning (my guilt on hiring a cleaning service, please see future blog entry, "How I've Failed as a Housewife").

In three hours, little got done, despite my bribes, cajoles, threats. After they all went to bed, and I downed a glass of cabernet, I had two choices:

1) pack all toys in boxes and hide boxes in attic
2) clean it all up myself

What did I choose? Well, after that glass of wine, option #1 seemed like a lot of effort. I'd have to find the packing tape gun, for one thing. And the stairs, two flights, a whole lot of climbing. What I did was tidy up some stuff, bag up some other stuff to hide. After all, if it's too much to clean up, it's too much to have. So I tell them, and sometimes, it's what they believe.

But the kids know me to be a closet sucker. They and I all know that I will return to Cooper his bag of Star Wars Legoes and Mitzi will reclaim her itty-bitty Barbie accessories -- all of which I rescued from Teresa's vacuum cleaner, with no thanks -- and next time we won't struggle so much to put it away. Because they will remember that tonight, after a day of Mean, I was Nice. And, really, my kids are good, they do their best, and deserve a second chance.

Everyone went to bed early tonight, a consequence of their day of poor listening, faulty toy cleaning, general naughty behavior, and my inability to diplomatically deal with the quartet. Six-forty-five, all tucked in. No regrets for me.

I have been, and will continue to be, a Mean Mommy. But tonight, this supposedly Mean Mommy rules a quiet and somewhat tidy house. And for these 185 minutes of peace and sanity, I'm okay with the label of Mean, not Nice. Tomorrow is another day. And if not tomorrow, some day down the road.

After all, I really like my mom now. And if my adolescent memory serves me correctly, she was the quintessential Mean Mommy.

Just ask my siblings if you don't believe me.

Going West

Denial. Not just a river in Egypt.

Okay, the oldest joke in the world. But I've been swimming in denial for a few months now, and am just feeling ready to talk about it, because it's really going to happen.

Michelle is really leaving.

Michelle is my little sister, the baby of the family. (She hates to be called that, but to me, oftentimes, that's what she is.) At the same time, for most of my life she's been my best friend, strongest supporter, fiercest defender, disher of tough love. She has an amazingly gentle heart and incredibly strong shoulders. I hope I've been somewhat the same for her.

Next week she's leaving the East to embark on a journey West, to the land of big skies, of wide open spaces, where she'll work on a ranch for six months, leaving behind the fast-paced world of corporate America, Blackberries, deadlines and cafeterias (but thankfully not her blog, email or cell phone, come on now.) This position been a dream of hers for years now. The move is a courageous, joyous one, not lightly made or softly planned.

I couldn't be more thrilled for her. Really. And since we live so far apart now, it's not like we're ending our weekly lunches or daily workouts together. Live the dream. It's not about me. Go for it. All that stuff. I know there's nothing to be upset about.

But there's something sad about the change. What if she won't be able to chat on the phone 95 times a day like we do now? Or email at the drop of a hat? What if the kids want to call her and leave a song message on her voice mail?

She says it's only for six months. "Imagine I'm going to college," she says. "The time will fly by."

Sure. But when she went to college I was gone too, and we were too young to be sad at goodbyes.

The kids, particularly Mitzi, grow teary at the thought of Shelley far away. In comforting them, I remind myself of things:

Look at your auntie. She is brave. She is taking a chance to fulfill a dream, risking a comfortable and certain present for an unknown future. And, kids, make sure you ask her how alive it makes her feel to do that. Ask her if colors seem brighter, the wind a little sweeter.

And always remember, my babies, I might think to say, remember that the unexamined life is not worth living. You only get one go-around. Make it count.

No matter where you go, you can always come home.

Michelle, you too.

Tips from Parenting Magazine

In their April issue, Parenting magazine offered these bits of information about kids' health. I found each one so interesting, I had to post them:

Honey may reduce your child's nighttime cough. Good news, since, alas, no meds are recommended for the under six age group. Give 1/2 tsp. for kids 1 to 5; for those 6 and up, 1 tsp. Don't put in tea as this could dilute its effect.

Achoo Syndrome affects about 10 to 25 percent of the population. That's when bright light causes a person to sneeze. Experts have no explanation. Funny, I thought it was just me!

Shopping carts are germier than public toilets. I will no longer silently mock those smart moms who have those soft inserts to put over the basket where baby sits. You ARE better than I.

You can use breast milk on a minor cut, since milk has natural antibiotics that fight infection. Dab some on, air dry the cut, bandage it up. Apparantly the stuff is also good for baby acne, diaper rash, cradle cap and mild eczema. Who knew.

For more super-intelligent advice, check out www.parenting.com.

Hooray, Cooper!

Here's another reason to brag. Cooper received his trophy for reading 1,000 books!















The ceremony takes place at the elementary school morning meeting, so he got up in front of the entire student body, faculty, parents and other visitors. He shook the principal's hand and even smiled a little. The fact that he did this at only five years old is incredible. We are all very proud of our bookworm!