It's MY turn!

There is a certain person in the family, "Q", who, shall we say, knows exactly how to "press my buttons". We are two very different people, who, if not for the fact that we love the same people, would never seek one another out as friends. We do our best to get along. And truth be told, in spite of our differences of opinion, we actually love each other too. That said, "Q" irks the "be-jaysus" out of me from time to time. I try not to dwell on it, I try not blog about it, but sometimes, like today, the steam pressure under my cap is just so tremendous that if I don't let some off I feel like I truly might lose my head.

This story however, is not so much about what "Q" said or did (it's almost always "said") to piss me off today. The story is about the great epiphany I had about the whole situation - because heaven knows, today was not the first time I have been pushed to the brink by "Q", and it certainly won't be the last.


There has been a particularly virulent strain of pestilence running through our estate this week. It's the flu...and no, so do not even say it or I may scream, it is not the swine flu. (do you think I would neglect to mention that I have the freaking swine flu?, really?) Anyway it hit me, it hit First Son and Paddy and it very sadly hit my sweet Curly Girl the hardest of all. She ran a fever of 104' for two days straight, and then followed it up with a day and a half of 102'. For three whole days she barely came out of her bedroom. She couldn't eat, she couldn't walk. She missed her last days of preschool, and we have had to postpone the sprinkler party playdate that we had planned for the whole class. Very sad right? I know. Now during this time, I have been recuperating myself from a bout with the same flu as well as an upper respiratory infection. I have also been taking care of my three other children who have all been touched by the illness, including one very active 2 1/2 year old asthmatic whom I have been feeding steroids in order to build up and heal his lungs. Do you know what a 2 1/2 year old on steroids is like? Good, now imagine that is what he is like all the time, and then give him steroids. Oingo Boingo...off the walls, and I can't leave the house. I am dealing with it as best I can. We manage, we have been through much worse, and "this too shall pass".

So, today comes and I can no longer put it off. I must go to the store. Supplies are running low. Sure, I probably could have made it through a few more days before I had to replenish the Cheerios (on second thought, they are a staple of Dexter's diet, so maybe not) but I absolutely positively could not go another hour without purchasing....diapers! Seriously. All clean nappies in our possession were secured to heineys. I had to go to the store. Also, I think there are serious health benefits in getting up, getting dressed and getting out. Sometimes mental health is quite neglected in the name of physical health. Curly's temp was only 100' this morning and she quickly perked up after a dose of Tylenol. She was happy to get dressed and excited to get out of the house. Steroid boy needed a change of atmosphere, and Dexter loves to see the sights.


We all got washed and dressed and so, to Costco we were headed! Then...the phone rang. I had purposely not called "Q" this morning because I knew that no good would come of it. The ringing persisted, so I picked up the phone and dutifully gave "Q" the rundown. Updated on all the symptoms, etc. I had no choice but to mention our outing, though I did so reluctantly. As expected, "Q" made all of the usual passive aggressive comments alluding to my parenting skills and I did my best not to be too snarky in return, but rather tried to coolly change the subject and quickly end the call. (I tried not to be too snarky - I didn't say I was a model of diplomacy)



In general, I don't give a rat's ass what anyone thinks of me. I am notoriously independent and sure of myself. However, you touch a nerve when you imply that I do not know what I am doing as a mother. When I feel that I need to defend myself for going out to buy diapers, (diapers people, not crack cocaine) when you try to make me feel like the decisions I make are at the expense of my children's well-being, I become slightly "on edge". Actually, I fly into a rage. I called dear Hubby and warned him that I needed to vent about "Q". I lit into the whole story, yelling and screaming at poor, innocent and extremely understanding Hubby. A few minutes later Aunt Tay called, and I told her the whole story with equal verve. My blood was boiling.


Nothing I could do about it, I needed diapers post -haste. We got in the car and headed off to procure the necessary items, and I continued re-hashing the whole thing over and over in my mind. Outwardly I was trying to calm down, but inside I kept replaying the entire episode in my head. I must say it irks me that I am so easily irked.


Now my sweet, precocious Curly Girl is quite concerned with her future as a mother and wife. (bear with me) She often starts sentences like this "When I am the Mom...." as in: "When I am the Mom I am going to let my kids watch SpongeBob, and I will watch it with them" or "When I am the Mom I will drive a mid-size car when I have just two babies, or one". It is cute and funny and endearing to listen to her. She doesn't know it, but she is figuring out her values, and she is forging a healthy separation from me. I love hearing her talk about when she is a grown up (even though I am still trying to broker a deal with the devil himself to keep her little).

Today as we were driving to Costco, my mind all a whir because of my earlier aggravating phone conversation, she started in on one of these tangents. I started thinking quite innocently that all kids at one time or another must make similar declarations, dreaming of the day to come when they get to make the rules. I know that First Son has declared that when he is the Dad he is going to let his kids buy any kind of sugar cereal they want and take them to Disney every single vacation, and I am fairly certain that Paddy boy is hatching some type of plan that involves all lollipops, all the time. Many of us adults, saddled with the realities of responsibility have lost touch with our idealist former child selves. We enforce sensible rules and probably never eat ice cream for dinner. We are...grown-ups. In thinking about this sad fact I tried hard to remember what types of things I was determined to do so well when I finally got to be the grown-up, and if I could remember something, anything, I was going to do it with my children just because I can, because I am after all, "the Mom".

That is when it hit me. I am "the Mom." That's it. It is my turn. Everybody else has either had their shot, will get their shot or is maybe in the middle of their shot right now, and so should leave me the heck alone and take care of their own business. It's true that one day my cherubs will get to be the grown-ups, and make their own rules, either for their kids or for themselves. Today is not their day, it is mine. Today is not "Q"'s day either, that was yesterday. Everybody gets their turn to make the rules, decide what is best. Today is my day, I earned it. I dreamed about it and planned for it since I was a little kid. When I was small and thought of the day I would get to be the grownup, the thing I wanted most was to get to be the grown-up, to be the Mom, and now my day is here. I am not going to let "Q" or anyone else make me feel like less of a mother just because I decide to go get diapers. I am the Mom, thank you very much. As "the Mom" I declare that when the diaper baskets run out of diapers, I will go get more. It is my prerogative to make that rule and no one else's.

It's my turn. You had your turn. Go home. I am too busy scooping the ice cream we are eating for dinner to talk to you anyway.