I am the world’s worst mom. No, really! I have it on good authority. It was hissed at me mere hours ago by one of my traumatized teenaged daughters as she stomped up the stairs…tragically deprived of an evening out. And just in case you are tempted to assure me that it was simply a fluke…a moment of madness: this was definitely not the first time. These words, along with the searing I hate you affirmation have been thrown at me at one time or another by each of my three darling cherubs.
Ironically, as I sipped (aka gulped…who has time to sip anything) my morning coffee, my mind drifted to all the thoughtful #1 MOM and BEST MOM IN THE WORLD trinkets that the kids have gifted me over the years. I even took a moment to sort through the cabinet, in an effort to locate a #1 MOM mug to which I could transfer my coffee before the kids wandered down. Sarcasm is an art form in our home…so I know that my efforts would not have been lost on my brooding young offspring. But…no mug. Had she beat me to it? No, the mug had most likely been transferred to the basement wet bar. There is a limit to the number of mugs that should reside in any one kitchen, as well as a limit to the effort I was willing to put into this particular statement.
Anyway, I instead decided to design the mug pictured above and presented the idea to the daughter who was presently angry with me. “This is what I would like you to give me for my birthday,” I stated. She was all for the idea and I briefly saw a grin break through the stormy glare. “Are we ok?” I asked. I could tell that she was still upset, but she had definitely cooled off significantly. I once again explained that her father and I do not like punishing her, but that she had been duly forewarned and that she knew the rules and knew full well that she had broken one.
Then I thought about it a little more, as she slinked off. I really do want that mug for my birthday. I want it because it is when those painful words are being tossed at me, that I feel most like a mom. As the years have gone by, these words have lost some of their sting and have become a reminder that the most important moments of being a mom are sometimes the most difficult.
Don’t get me wrong! I love hearing my children tell me how much they love me and how I am the bestest thing ever since sliced bread and the internet, but those words almost always come at me during the easiest parts of being a mom. It’s not hard to give your girls the tickets to the musical that they have always wanted to see nor is it in any way difficult to place that Lego set that Little Man has been pining after for months under the Christmas tree.
The hardest moments of motherhood for me have been the ones when I know deep in my soul that I am trying to do the very best to prepare them for the world and that my very best might make them hate me for the time being. That is why…if any of the kids actually does make this mug for me…I will sip my morning coffee from it with pride and love them all the more for it.
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