Friday, February 4, 2011

Where am I and How Did I Get Here?

In an out-of-body experience the other day, I looked down on myself in my kitchen, being yelled at by an abnoxious 15 year old with long dirty blond hair (emphasis on the dirty).
Seems he was upset with me for making him go to school (on a school day mind you) because our home district buses were cancelled.

So I looked down upon myself (and it's not the most flattering angle, truth be told) and asked myself how I came to be in such a position. My child was back sassin' me; telling me my decision to send him off to school was retarded.

Wasn't this the same child for whom I endured 23 hours of labor, which included suffering through traditional labor, use of forceps, a Hoover applied south of the border, and ultimately being surgically flayed open to bring him screaming into the world?

Wasn't this the child I nursed through multiple ear infections and viruses, night terrors, appendicitis? Rocked and paced and cried for hours on end when he was a colicky infant? Stood in steaming bathrooms in the middle of the night to help ease the croup?

I was quite certain that this was the same boy whose bottom I wiped and diapers I changed so frequently that the act invaded my dreams. The child from whom I tolerated snot, pee, poop, vomit and strained pees in my hair, on my clothes, in my mouth and up my nose.

The boy I taught to read, ride a bike, use the potty and tie his shoes. The one I learned side-by-side with to find out all there was to know about dinosaurs, "constuction appointment", castles and bugs.

Looking back upon all I sacrificed - all the madness of being a Mommy - I found it unfathomable that any halfway grown child of mine should do any less than bow in supplication when I entered the room. How then, was I witnessing the scene before me? Had I truly let my children chisel away at me bit by painful bit to the point where there is nothing left but a shriveled up shadow of a human to be yelled at when their wish was not granted?

I wanted to scream and pull my hair out, but since this was an out-of-body experience, such was not possible.

So instead, zhwoop, I re-entered my body, grew a 1/2" taller (still puny compared to his 6' stature) and lay into him about respect and loss of privileges and blahblahblah. He quieted down about it, but still held a grudge for awhile. As did I. You'd better remember that I rule over everything you hold near and dear, son, and will not hesitate to take it all away in a snap.

Don't mess with this Mama.

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