The world is full of really good Moms.
These are women who want their beloved children to be healthy, hearty and independent.
Sometimes I pretend to be one of those women.
This week, though, I was a really bad Mom.
If word of my behavior gets out, I will no doubt be ordered to hand in my Good Mom credentials. I am. So. Ashamed.
See, when my kids were little, I was so proud of myself of helping them to be independent. I bought them hampers and taught them how to do laundry when they were in the fifth grade. (Oh, OK. This happened when my oldest child was outraged that I washed and dried her best sweater, turning it into the perfect doll outfit. Still….) I had them choosing their own clothes by first grade, making their own lunches by third grade, organizing their backpacks by fourth.
I was such. A. Good. Mom.
I let my little fledglings fly! And I was so proud!
Until they all flew away. And my nest was suddenly empty. Then my entire mindset changed.
All of a sudden, I wanted them to need me again. You know, just for a little while!
Which brings me to this week.
My middle child, my golden boy, my smart and independent older son, had to have five teeth pulled at once. Two of them were impacted wisdom teeth. He was going to be in a lot of pain and under the influence of a lot of drugs. I offered to help him, but fully expected him to decline.
This boy has been independent and self-reliant for quite a while now. He doesn’t need his Mamma.
But to my great amazement, he accepted my offer! He asked if I could come and take him to his oral surgeon and then bring him back home! “Gee, OK!”, I said.
And this is where I became the worst mother ever.
Instead of feeling sorry that he had to endure such pain and discomfort, I became ridiculously happy to think of having him home for three days! I bought pastina and yogurt and good ice cream! I made up his bed and cleaned up the bathroom. I defrosted soup and bought extra mouthwash and got ready to nurse my injured boy back to full health.
I am a wicked bad and shameful mother.
And I have had such a great time with my baby boy for the past two days!
As soon as he finishes his home made mac n’ cheese and Ben and Jerry’s ice cream, I will reform and repent and reject my sinful ways.
For now, though, I plan to make him a nice soft omelette and watch him carefully as he eats it.
I’ll turn in my Good Mom badge tomorrow.
12 thoughts on “Hanging up my “Good Mom” credentials”
You are the best bad mom everrrr! So glad you got to fall from grace!
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And I know you get it!!! You can fuss over your boy real soon, too!
Time to start earning those Grammie credentials, if you ask me…..
Love it. I am so happy that my children are independent but when I get to take care of them….i like it.
I think the best moms are the ones that can balance giving their children wings to fly while still “smothering” them. Matt knew you’d pamper him and knew where to go to be loved and taken care of while he healed so he came home to you. Don’t move the nest, my friend, the birdies still fly home when they need their Mama, and that is a wonderful thing!
Thank you, Beth! You put a good spin on my “Oh, goodie, he’s sick!” mindset!
Hard to let go, but I’m getting there!
Still, so sweet to have him here with me for his recuperation!
A really good mom must know what to do and do it. As you did. Enjoying it? That’s the icing!
It was worth losing the Mammabear title!
I’m sure glad my Momma Bear isn’t anything like you were — she’s always doing things for me and I LIKE IT!!!
You’re a luckily little bear, for sure!
I’m a shocking mum, and most of mine haven’t even left home yet. If they leave their beds unmade, I make them. If there’s bathroom towels on their bedroom floor, I take them back. I turn their socks in the right way in the wash, unbutton their shirts, and they wouldn’t have a clue how to use a washing machine. I don’t think they could start a dishwasher although they can unload it when they need clean crockery and cutlery. I rant at them every now and then, and call myself their personal slave, then get up the next day and do it all for them again. I know why they don’t change—why would they. I’m hanging my head in shame. Truly. I need to lift my game …
Hahaha! No, your game is fine! I exaggerated, trust me! Mine are all adults now and not a one would dream of making a bed (ugh! I have failed!)
Mine were independent because I had a full time job and a long commute; it was either learn to cook or starve!
Oh I know exactly what you are saying. Guilty pleasure. Glad you enjoyed it and hope the patient has made a good recovery.