Mommy Dearest?

While I wasn’t an overly touchy feely kind of mother, I had somehow been transformed into a frantic one.  Everything my daughter did scared and alarmed me – I was so afraid she would be abducted or hit by a car.  It is fair to admit that I don’t believe this type of obsessive hovering did her any favours, as I was simply too afraid to allow her to just fall and learn how to pick herself back up again.  I always needed to be able to catch her BEFORE she fell…I’m still that way even though she’s now 31 years old.

There were also – a few simple rules I managed to adhere to.  The first involved baby talk…I’ll apologize in advance if anyone finds this offensive, however; I really do believe that it is a parent’s responsibility to teach their children to use REAL words.  These do not include:  wee wee, woo hoo, binky, drinky, sippy (unless it’s the cup)… etc. etc. etc.  I was taught to use my words and I wanted my daughter to do the same.  My other rule was that I believed in honesty.  If Faryn asked me what something was, I told her the truth, even when it completely embarrassed me (and later on her) to do so.

To elaborate on the latter, there was a time when my daughter was young that we loved to  share a bath.  It was loads of fun, with lots of bubbles and toys – we would face each other, me always squashed against the faucet while she casually reclined on the smooth side.  I loved making soapy foam Mohawks out of her hair or having her surprise me with the occasional fart bubble.  Our shared bath times came to an abrupt halt when we had the following conversation:

Faryn:  “Why do you have such a hairy bum?”

Me:    ??????????????  OMG – SPEAK THE TRUTH!

Faryn:  “Ha ha… you have a BIG hairy bum!”

Me:  “Well…ummm…that’s not actually my BUM…” (OH FUCKY FUCK FUCK – please note that made up words are obviously appropriate to use when they aren’t spoken out loud.  Also,  in my defense,  this WAS the 80’s, wherein you might recall that BIG hair was in vogue.  This was also well before the onset or popularity of Brazilian waxes) 

Once I had removed my daughter from the bathtub, dried her off and dressed her, I sat her down on the bed and proceeded to explain to her exactly what these particular body parts were called.  HUGE MISTAKE.  Children have memories like elephants (just try breaking a promise – they never let you forget) however,  I remained hopeful that once these words had been uttered, she would soon forget them.  Not so…While my daughter remembered the words I had used, she seemingly remained confused about which part belonged to which gender.  Therefore, for weeks afterwards, I was constantly punished for my stupidity when she casually approached any person she met and asked:

Faryn:  “Do you have a PENIS or a VAGINA?” 

During this time, I was still dealing with Faryn’s embarrassing need to display her annoyance or frustration in public.  She continued to have massive temper tantrums at the most inopportune moments.  One day, we were in a very, very busy Save on Foods shopping for groceries.  Faryn was seated in the front of the shopping cart, again facing me (oh why must I not learn from past mistakes and simply place her UNDER the cart?) when she suddenly began to shriek for no apparent reason.  At this point, I was almost finished shopping and thought that I could just rush my way to the check out if I simply ignored this tiny Satan for just a few more minutes.  As usual, I misjudged the extent of her endurance.  I had on this particular day – worn a really cute pink top that snapped up the front and Faryn suddenly lunged forward, grabbed my top and ripped it open, exposing my breasts to everyone within our general vicinity.  And so, there we were, gripped together in this monumental struggle where the more I tried to pry her little fingers from the fabric, the harder she clutched, making it impossible for me to cover myself.  You cannot even begin to imagine my humiliation. Meanwhile, making matters worse, her shrieks (now sounding as though she was in the throes of an agonizing death) were drawing even more attention. It is indeed possible to love someone fiercely and yet dislike them immensely all at the same moment.

I finally found myself in a position to be able to purchase a vehicle – a brand spanking new bright red Ford Festiva, complete with wave stencils along both door panels.  This little death trap of a car was basically made of aluminum, but I was ever so proud to finally have my own vehicle.  Shortly after I had purchased the vehicle, Faryn was invited to attend a birthday party and since I didn’t know the parents, there was no way I was dropping her off and just leaving.  Awkwardly, I was the only parent there and no sooner had I arrived when I suddenly became severely and violently ill.  So ill in fact, I was throwing up in their washroom for the majority of the party.  They finally took pity on me and had me lay down on their bed.  Imagine – I had never MET these people… While I was wallowing in my misery, the party finally reached its conclusion and I’m sure they just wanted this sick/ pathetic/neurotic woman out of their bedroom.  On wobbly legs, I packed up my daughter and having no other choice, proceeded into my brand new car to take her home.  Both parents were standing in the driveway watching me (quite possibly to make sure I was actually going to leave their residence) and as I buckled Faryn into her seatbelt –  my stomach started  violently churning and I knew I was going to vomit.  Now I’m sure you can envision the dilemma I was in – here I was with strangers watching, in my brand new car, hand over my mouth, not wanting to open the door and vomit onto their driveway (in their presence) and more so, surely not wanting to vomit in my new vehicle.  I had only one option – I leaned over, grabbed the hood of my daughter’s new winter coat (which she was WEARING) and proceeded to vomit into it instead…I am indeed a horrible horrible person and quite possibly the WORST mother ever.

Author: davidson200

I have been writing for as long as I can remember...Always losing confidence in my words shortly after they were written - I would soon just give up and set my words aside. I started this blog for two reasons; the first so that I could try to reach other “not so perfect” parents through humor - to share my mistakes and the doubts I felt concerning my ability to parent alone at such a young age. My message is clear - it’s ok to be an imperfect parent! My second reason was to actually share my words with others, something I have never attempted in the past. The positive feedback I have received has given me the courage to continue writing and sharing my story. This blog makes me feel like a writer - finally... View all posts by davidson200