Mother-fate

I like that my kids are funny. It makes my days less mundane and far more entertaining. I know it will aid them well as adults. Afterall, having a sense of humor makes everything in life easier. But, funny kids are often difficult to parent. Right in the moment where I have on my scary mommy-discipline face and know I have to be tough, they disarm me with belly-grabbing humor. Every. Single. Time.

Like Friday. Ian comes into the living room (where I am reading to Maggie) and announces in a perfect tattle voice, "Will said a word we aren't supposed to say." In the seconds he uses to cross the living room, I imagine all of the h-words, s-words, d-words he could have possibly used while crashing trucks off the dining room table. Ian gets right up to my head to whisper the offensing word, you know, so Maggie won't hear, and a big splatter of spittle and breath reverberate "stupid" into my ear. As I look up, I see the mischievious Dennis the Menace look-a-like peeking at me from the hallway, trying his best to put on a straight, sullen "I'm sorry" face.

"Will, did you use a word you aren't supposed to?" I ask. Will's face goes serious, "What stupid? Yep, I said stupid because Ian was being stupid because the game he wanted to play was stupid and I was tired of it so yes, I said stupid, stupid, stupid!" My composure is cracking and it takes everything I have not to bust my gut laughing. I manage, "Well please just don't use that word anymore because it's not nice." And full exasperation he says, "Ok, Mom, if you don't want me to say 'stupid' I won't say 'stupid' anymore. Even though I think that is 'stupid,' I get it," turns on his heel and walks away. The only thing I can muster is, "One day, I hope you have a kid that is just like you. But worse!" And just like that, I began a whole new generation of Mother-fate!

I know that my children provide my mom with a lot of satisfaction as a grandmother. However, I know she relishes the most in the fact that while I sit totally exasperated by their sarcasm, wit, and know-it-all responses, she gets the satisfaction of watching me raise children just. like. ME. As a kid I disarmed her discipline with sarcasm. Her trump card response: "I hope your children are just like you. But worse. One day, I hope you get a double-dose of that sarcasm." I am afraid I may get triple. And even though I couldn't stand it as a kid, I now, more than ever, want my kids to know what it is like to raise them. I want them to be totally disarmed by their own cleverness. I want my own Mother-fate to work on them. I also pray that my kids use up all that Mother-fate before age 13...a triple dose of me as a teenager..Lord help me!