Being a mother is a hard job. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. It begins with the up every two hours, sleep deprived nurturing of the new born and continues…well, near as I can see from here, forever. But things do change. As my children have grown, so has our relationship. It ebbs and flows like a tide. Some days are better than others, some days I’m a peaceful calm sea and others, board your windows kids, mom’s in a mood.
Mom, the invincible one. The ultimate soother of the owies, preparer of the favorite lunch and chocolate chip pancakes is suddenly MoooooM, the embarrassing one. There are moments when my face defies the pain that the words off the lips of a child just inflicted on my heart. But those days are quickly replaced by Mom, the friend. We talk about everything from clothes to dreams to girls/boys to sex and grades.
We are mostly in the you’re my friend and my ATM phase of parenting with the kids, but still at risk of the occasional mocking target, just for kicks. Over time I’ve learned to not take it so personally and the “board your windows” days have reduced with that learned skill. I can’t share a magic for when or how I learned to adapt, but it does happen.
Now I know I’m not up for any “Mom of the Year” award, I’m pretty sure the “f-bomb” infused screaming match with my daughter a few months ago will disqualify me for life, but overall, we must have done something OK. My kids are close, they trust us, respect us and for the most part like us, flaws and all.