Count the Bad Mommies

Sunday, February 10, 2008

Territorial Issues

My daughter had a narrow brush with death yesterday.*

I've never been awfully big on sharing, and despite the general consensus that the role of mother carries with it an implicit compulsion to share surrender everything one owns, I am still not big on sharing.

I mean, I can deal with having to dole out half my share of the slab of chocolate after the rest of the clan have wolfed theirs down like starved beasts. I can live with having the kids empty half of my shampoo into the bath to make bubbles. I'm even starting to get over the indignity of having my one weekly shit interrupted as one of the small people barges in, incapable of waiting a single moment longer to enlighten me on the intricate comings and goings of monsters,vampires bamfires and imaginary friends.

But when I've taken the time to agonise over a little self-indulgent purchase on what will most likely be the only trip to London that my company ever sends me on; When I've fastidiously battled the wills of my seven other personalities and left that expensive perfume bottle sealed in its box, saving it either for a really special occasion or for my mother's upcoming birthday, at which time I'll be too broke to be able to buy her a decent present; When I'm having a Saturday morning lie-in for the first time in so long, I can't believe I once lived a life in which this was common practice; Then, upon waking up to find my daughter wafting breezily through the living room, that familiar and seductive scent wafting off her in overwhelming waves; Upon tearing through my underwear drawer in search of that precious bottle and finding it gone; then I am so very fucking not okay with sharing less inclined to be persuaded to refrain from bludgeoning the brat to death with a blunt object remain calm and reasonable.

* She walked away from the incident having suffered no physical harm, but having gained a new-found respect for Mommy's Things.

6 comments:

stephanie said...

These are the times that try us,no? Sounds like you did just the right thing - removed yourself from the vicinty of sharp and/or blunt objects.

Well done, you.

sweets said...

my sister regularly asks me... when is it ok to hit your kids with a fist... hahahhaha... she never does obviously... but that overwhelming need to really hurt them sometimes... i sound horrible don't I...

angel said...

oh my friggin word i wish i could get damien to respect my things!!!! he's going on 17 and STILL cannot stay the fork out of my bedroom!

Kerryn said...

Oh what great joy. I am SO looking forward to the teenage years :-)

MamaMeeA said...

Stephanie - Thanks.

Sweets - Not at all. Or, rather, yes. But we all totally understand.
I tried being a stay at home mom at one time, and (more often than I care to admit) found myself having to lock myself in the bathroom and call my husband to get home RIGHT NOW if he still wanted kids by the time he got home.

As for the teenage years, Angel, Kerryn, I'm just trying hard to learn the patience and self-composure required for all of us to make it that far... ;-)

Tamara said...

I'm not even a mother yet and I identify with the violent urges. I once broke my hairbrush on my brother's backside. I was about 12, he was about 7. I figured I was over it, but the other day, in an argument with hubby I split another brush down the middle on our kitchen counter. So I think I need to harness at least your degree of self-control before I have kids and abuse them by brush.