I self-identify with the moms in the movie Bad Moms. I saw the film with some friends and, like the vast majority of the audience, we laughed ourselves silly. The movie highlights how I want to do less; but, I worry about failing my kids. Especially at this time of year. Summer is so busy as we navigate summer camps and weekend activities geared to soak up the beautiful weather.
The climate, the trips and the relaxation all add up to fun. Where I fall off the rails is when it comes to summer camps. Some camps have no structure (which drives one of my kids nuts) while others have very strict structure (which drives my other kid nuts). Some are run by adults and some are run by teenagers. Some have leaders who are awesome ("let's play capture the flag or rip apart a VCR") and some downright suck ("I don't care if you are happy, I get paid anyway"). Each week brings a fresh round of BFFs ("we both love playing ball!") and bullies ("he hit me in the stomach and then sat on me!"). Grrrr.
After a particularly frazzling month of navigating camp issues and squeezing sunny weather activities into each weekend, I was at the end of my tether. Of course, this is when I turned into a bad mom and failed my kid.
The set up
My youngest son had been anticipating a friend's birthday party all summer. He told me about the party before the school year ended. He proceeded to remind me almost every week. The party was August 11. "Got it!" The friend's mother was kind enough to reach out to me more than once to confirm the date and location. "No problem" I thought. August 11. All good! "Let's get him gift cards," my son thoughtfully exclaimed. "Check!" I was on task and in the game. Or, so I thought.
The crime
In my head, August 11 was a Friday. I have no idea why but it was stuck in my brain as such. As many others would reasonably conclude by referring to an actual calendar, August 11 was Thursday. Because I was convinced August 11 was a Friday, which we have now established that it was not, I did not take my son to the birthday party. Of course, my son's friend had his party without my boy. On that fateful Thursday night, my son was innocently home with my husband, unaware that the party was proceeding without him.
The Bad Mom factor
To add insult to injury, while I should have been taking my son to a jovial evening of frivolity I, instead, enjoyed a class of wine and chatted with my father. Then, thinking I had survived the role of mom for another day, my friend picked me up and we ran off to the movies to see "Bad Moms". In retrospect, the irony is not lost on me.
The Realization
It wasn't until the next day as I was driving my kids to yet another camp that realization hit me like a golf ball pitched at my forehead. I ogled an outdoor electric sign on my main route showing the date and temperature. Imagine me internally shrieking "NOOOOOOOO" as I cruised by the August 12 sign in what seemed like slow motion.
The Planned Fix
In our house, every hiccup must be accompanied with a remedy. The adage "don't bring me problems, bring me solutions" is a well-oiled phrase. I gulped at the thought of what this flub-up would cost me. Frantically, I reached out to the friend's mom to explain. I begged her to let me take her kid out for a special evening with my son. Just the two boys. She agreed. I mused "she is a kind and considerate woman" as I ruefully berated my own failing.
The Confession
Both of my boys have deep dark puppy dog eyes and they know how to use them on me. Their eyes are my kryptonite. With my son gently and lovingly wrapped in my arms, I confessed my sins. I outlined the make-up evening with supper, a movie and play time down by the wharf. Steeling myself for the backlash and prepared for the onslaught of emotions, I gazed fearfully at his sweet lips for what was surely coming next. He whispered to me as I held him nose-to-nose: "can we go to McDonald's for supper?" "Um, sure" I muttered. With that, it was over.
Where was the drama? Where was the anguish? Where were the recriminations? This is the same kid who isn't above screeching in horror and anguish as he enacts dinosaur stuffie attacks on his legos. What was the explanation for this unexpected reprieve from whining and, whining's cousin, wailing?
Possible Explanations
#1: Anything can be fixed with McDonald's.
#2: My kids accept me even with my mistakes.
#3: A little from #1 and a little from #2.
Conclusion:
Loving acceptance in spite of mistakes is a valid coping technique. It is the premise of the book "I Will Always be Happy to See You," written by Elaine DeLange of Rothesay, New Brunswick, Canada. The book is described as follows:
A sweet story about a little dog that knows he will always be welcomed home with open arms, no matter what trouble he may get into.
This is a great book to help your children - if they are starting daycare, school, or even university - to reassure them that, no matter what happens, you will always be happy to see them.
The book is available through eBay, Amazon and Chapters-Indigo; although I am sure there are other shops carrying it.
As you can imagine, the dog in the story makes many mistakes. My kids make many mistakes. My husband and I make many mistakes. Yet, we saunter through life knowing that we are always happy to see each other. My son could have milked the guilt trip for a month of Sundays. Instead, he accepted my gaffe (like the little girl in the story) and accepted me.
Maybe next summer, I will cope better by doing less, in the spirit of the movie. By doing less, maybe I will make less mistakes. There will always be some mistakes but I know, in the spirit of the book, my kids will always be happy to see me, as I am of them. If I am ever in doubt, McDonalds seems to do the trick! Explanation #3 it is.
No single coping technique will take all the pain away.
Try anyway.
Maggie
The climate, the trips and the relaxation all add up to fun. Where I fall off the rails is when it comes to summer camps. Some camps have no structure (which drives one of my kids nuts) while others have very strict structure (which drives my other kid nuts). Some are run by adults and some are run by teenagers. Some have leaders who are awesome ("let's play capture the flag or rip apart a VCR") and some downright suck ("I don't care if you are happy, I get paid anyway"). Each week brings a fresh round of BFFs ("we both love playing ball!") and bullies ("he hit me in the stomach and then sat on me!"). Grrrr.
After a particularly frazzling month of navigating camp issues and squeezing sunny weather activities into each weekend, I was at the end of my tether. Of course, this is when I turned into a bad mom and failed my kid.
The set up
My youngest son had been anticipating a friend's birthday party all summer. He told me about the party before the school year ended. He proceeded to remind me almost every week. The party was August 11. "Got it!" The friend's mother was kind enough to reach out to me more than once to confirm the date and location. "No problem" I thought. August 11. All good! "Let's get him gift cards," my son thoughtfully exclaimed. "Check!" I was on task and in the game. Or, so I thought.
The crime
In my head, August 11 was a Friday. I have no idea why but it was stuck in my brain as such. As many others would reasonably conclude by referring to an actual calendar, August 11 was Thursday. Because I was convinced August 11 was a Friday, which we have now established that it was not, I did not take my son to the birthday party. Of course, my son's friend had his party without my boy. On that fateful Thursday night, my son was innocently home with my husband, unaware that the party was proceeding without him.
The Bad Mom factor
To add insult to injury, while I should have been taking my son to a jovial evening of frivolity I, instead, enjoyed a class of wine and chatted with my father. Then, thinking I had survived the role of mom for another day, my friend picked me up and we ran off to the movies to see "Bad Moms". In retrospect, the irony is not lost on me.
The Realization
It wasn't until the next day as I was driving my kids to yet another camp that realization hit me like a golf ball pitched at my forehead. I ogled an outdoor electric sign on my main route showing the date and temperature. Imagine me internally shrieking "NOOOOOOOO" as I cruised by the August 12 sign in what seemed like slow motion.
The Planned Fix
In our house, every hiccup must be accompanied with a remedy. The adage "don't bring me problems, bring me solutions" is a well-oiled phrase. I gulped at the thought of what this flub-up would cost me. Frantically, I reached out to the friend's mom to explain. I begged her to let me take her kid out for a special evening with my son. Just the two boys. She agreed. I mused "she is a kind and considerate woman" as I ruefully berated my own failing.
The Confession
Both of my boys have deep dark puppy dog eyes and they know how to use them on me. Their eyes are my kryptonite. With my son gently and lovingly wrapped in my arms, I confessed my sins. I outlined the make-up evening with supper, a movie and play time down by the wharf. Steeling myself for the backlash and prepared for the onslaught of emotions, I gazed fearfully at his sweet lips for what was surely coming next. He whispered to me as I held him nose-to-nose: "can we go to McDonald's for supper?" "Um, sure" I muttered. With that, it was over.
Where was the drama? Where was the anguish? Where were the recriminations? This is the same kid who isn't above screeching in horror and anguish as he enacts dinosaur stuffie attacks on his legos. What was the explanation for this unexpected reprieve from whining and, whining's cousin, wailing?
Possible Explanations
#1: Anything can be fixed with McDonald's.
#2: My kids accept me even with my mistakes.
#3: A little from #1 and a little from #2.
Conclusion:
Loving acceptance in spite of mistakes is a valid coping technique. It is the premise of the book "I Will Always be Happy to See You," written by Elaine DeLange of Rothesay, New Brunswick, Canada. The book is described as follows:
A sweet story about a little dog that knows he will always be welcomed home with open arms, no matter what trouble he may get into.
This is a great book to help your children - if they are starting daycare, school, or even university - to reassure them that, no matter what happens, you will always be happy to see them.
The book is available through eBay, Amazon and Chapters-Indigo; although I am sure there are other shops carrying it.
As you can imagine, the dog in the story makes many mistakes. My kids make many mistakes. My husband and I make many mistakes. Yet, we saunter through life knowing that we are always happy to see each other. My son could have milked the guilt trip for a month of Sundays. Instead, he accepted my gaffe (like the little girl in the story) and accepted me.
Maybe next summer, I will cope better by doing less, in the spirit of the movie. By doing less, maybe I will make less mistakes. There will always be some mistakes but I know, in the spirit of the book, my kids will always be happy to see me, as I am of them. If I am ever in doubt, McDonalds seems to do the trick! Explanation #3 it is.
No single coping technique will take all the pain away.
Try anyway.
Maggie
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