Bad Mommy

We have all had those days. Bad Mommy days. Those days when I wonder why I wasn’t required to get a license before I was allowed to have children. I have had many of those days. Juggling kids, marriage, work and life it is just inevitable that at the end of the day I ponder the irreparable damage I have done to my children and think “Well, I guess that is what therapy is for.”

Oh let me see! Let me recount some of my finest moments as a Bad Mommy. There was the day when I was late and in a hurry. I threw my keys on the passenger seat of the mini van. I got all the kids belted into their car seats. I slid the door to the van closed. Then I realized that my son had been playing with the door locks. After I screamed and kicked the garage wall I then tried to convince my 2 1/2-year-old to unbuckle his car seat and open the door. Then I thought… it might not be the best idea to teach my 2 1/2-year-old how to get out of his car seat. But hey, they were only in there for 45 minutes.

Not long after I locked all three of my children in the van I was once again leaving the house in a hurry with them in the car. I proceeded to back into the pole in the garage denting the door and leaving a long red paint streak. I had to ignore my inquisitive childrens’ question “What was that mommy?” for fear that the only thing that would escape my mouth would be a long blood curdling scream.

The day that my daughter cried and fussed all day and I was at my wit’s end. I found myself bending over and pointing at her cute little sparkly kitty shirt and telling her “Oh look, you have a kitty on your shirt! Do you want to cry about that too?” I believe her response was “Yes.”

One day I got a call at noon from daycare telling me that I forgot to put bottles in the baby’s bag. I quickly made a plan to run to the store, buy a bottle and take it to her. I rushed out to the car and realized that I had left the headlights on and my battery was dead.

Then there are the days when the kids tell you just what kind of parent you have been.

My son recently asked me to get a sherry glass out of the cabinet so he could “have wine like mommy.”

A couple of days ago my daughter, who looked sweet and sleepy in her fleece pj’s was attempting to open the door to let the dog out. She turned to me and said “I can’t get the frickin’ door open.” I asked her where she heard that. She didn’t have a response so I am pretty sure it wasn’t from me.

Last weekend my son was skipping down the aisle of a plant nursery happily singing “Ga dimmit! Ga dimmit!” I told him “I don’t want you to say that. That is not a nice thing to say.” At that point he proceeded to give me the hand and indignantly yell “Let my say ga dimmit mommy!” I have to admit that I do know where he heard that but I am going to point the finger in a different direction.

My 16 month old is missing both of her front teeth and I have no idea how or when they broke off. All I know is that I am going to have a lot of explaining to do when she looks back on her school pictures and wants to know what happened and why I allowed anyone to take her picture.

Yes, there are days when I wonder just what kind of damage I am doing to my children and so many times when I think I have been a Bad Mommy. But man! I love my kids and they know it! And hopefully, that will be enough to keep the therapy bills down.

2 thoughts on “Bad Mommy

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