Count the Bad Mommies

Friday, August 15, 2008

Bad Mommies Are Out There

I know its been forever since I did a post. Hell, some of the new mommies probably don't even know who I am. Hi! I'm Sheena. My daughters name was Kiera, she was beautiful and gorgeous and passed away in 2004. Every now and again I still feel a maternal urge to do some writing, and Exmi won't let me quit being a member of this blog, so I make do when I can.

Today though, I want to do something different. Britt is my best friend. Her and I were knocked up within a month of each other. Our daughters used to have play time while in utero, Britt and I would stick our tummies together like dorks and giggle. We had so many planned lunches, girl days, arranged marriages for our girl kids.

Needless to say, it didn't pan out that way, but we were fortunate to not let the loss of Kiera get in the way of our friendship, or affect my ability to simply adore her (now two) children, who I also happen to be Godmother to.

This is a story written by Britt, who is barely literate half of the time so she must have spent hours doing this correcting her bad spelling, but it touched my soul and encompassed everything about her family in a few short paragraphs. I'm so happy for her, and for all of you, who have your children on a daily basis and follow the motions of being a family. Without further ado, I give you 'Saturday Mornings':

I wake up to the light filtering though my dark red curtains, note to self: get darker curtains. Its 06:30 and its Saturday - awesome I got to sleep a whole hour later than usual. I creep out of bed so as not to wake the sleeping giant of a man I call hubby, but most importantly not to wake the small now pajama less little girl who somehow crawled into my bed last night with out waking me - no wonder my whole left side is numb - no pajamas mean one thing - wet bed, so the coffee I was aiming at will have to wait I will sort out the bedding first.

Tiptoeing into the kid's room shared by both Nik and Cully-boy, I peep over the cot ever so slightly and find my son still asleep, I can't help the smile that pops onto my face. Ok B, I think to myself, go get the bedding, throw in the washing machine and get that cup of coffee. Making it to the kitchen while very skillfully maneuvering over the toys, I realize I forgot the pillow case, not wanting to have wasted anytime I turn on my heel to fetch the pillow case, upon turning round I kick a ball which goes flying, hitting the wall and then smashing the hollow black plastic bike over, making a deep hollow drum sound that the drummer of the greatest rock band in the world would be proud of - I hate that bike. I am frozen, I listen - the house remains quiet and relief washes over me again I start back to the bedroom this time watching my every step.
On entering the bedroom I notice movement in Cully-boys cot. This time with the stealth of a panther I crouch and peep over the side of the cot - his eyes are wide, darting around looking for me, he sees me, jumps up and smiles, he is cute so I smile back. Moving the wet bedding to my left arm I collect my ever growing baby and move towards the kitchen, not forgetting the pillow case. But he moans and pushes me towards my bedroom, this means only one thing - he wants dad.

Now there are two things I can do: option one: I could take him to dad where by I will have the chance to dash like a mad woman to the kitchen in aid of my coffee, leaving Dad to deal with Cully-boy and if I calculate correctly I could be sipping coffee in 5 minuets or option two I could be the best wife ever and let the hubby sleep in, coffee will take longer than 5 minuets, the need for coffee over rides my need to be nice. I walk into the room with Cully-boy now jumping up and down in my arm, he is big now so I cant really hold on to him very well so just as we get to the side of the bed he jumps out my arm and strait onto Dad's tummy - so much for a peaceful wake up. The hubby; always a smile on his face sits up and plays with Cully-boy and in-between bounces request a glass of juice as he has his hands full and he is so extremely thirsty. So off to the kitchen I go, I dump the wet bedclothes in the washing machine and turn it on, pour some juice and fill the kettle.

I turn to head back to the room, but there is no need my husband walks in with Cully-boy extended a full arms length from him and in-between heaves is able to tell me that my son has done a pooh, nappy is faulty, it stinks and he thinks he does not feel so well anymore. I must say that this tiny fault in my husband amuses me greatly. Has he ever smelt himself after game of rugby?? In a full roar of laughter I eventually take Cully-boy, as the hubby dashes to the bathroom. Letting my son know what a good boy I think he is for encouraging his father to go for a morning sprint I change his nappy, now this has become a skill as Cully-boy finds it very funny to see how fast he can flip himself over after I have unfastened the nappy and scramble around the bed, so with one hand firmly on his chest the other hand gets busy at pealing, wiping, unfolding and folding - told you it's a skill. My husband peeps his head around the corner and asks if it safe to enter, I giggle some more at his flaw and hand Cully-boy over to him. I must say when there is no brown threatening pooh, my husband holds his son close and they are the best of mates.

They disappear into the lounge and play. I peep over at Nikita who is now awake, but clearly not impressed to be woken up, I mother her telling her how wonderful it is to see her princess face, and she eventually manages a smile. I go back to the kitchen with the thoughts of hot coffee filling my mind when I find that I filled the kettle but did not switch it on – damn it. As soon as Dad and son see me in the kitchen requests for food come pouring in I resist the urge to ignore them but I find myself making more juice and some breakfast. The kettle has boiled but I decide to take the now mountain of food to my two boys, the water will still be hot when I get back. Once they've been set, there is silence in the dining room as they both quietly munching away.
I head back to the kitchen but, am stopped by Nikita who "has a HUGE problem". She "just can't decide what to wear". So I follow her to her bedroom and pull out her favorite dress, no she is not in the mood for a dress, ok so I find her new Barbie outfit and for the first time ever in her four years she does not feel like Barbie this particular Saturday. Reaching for a pair of jeans and a cute top, apparently these jeans hurt her - they did not hurt her the other day but apparently she just knows they will hurt her today if she wears them. Eventually after what seems like hours she decides to wear a stained pair of yellow shorts and a teeny tiny pink shirt that is clearly far to small for her, satisfied with her outrageous choice in clothing we both head for the kitchen, I don't even bother looking to see if the water in the kettle is still hot - I know its not, so again I turn on the kettle and make Nikita her multi colored cereal, she is not impressed - the milk is cold.

I warm the milk up and now once again happy, she bounces off to join the boys in the lounge my first instinct is to tell her to stop bouncing and walk slowly, but I am too late there is multi colored cereal and milk all over the floor. I can hear the kettle switch off, but Nikita is now just dying of hunger so I start the cereal ritual all over again this time not forgetting to warm the milk up, she walks off to the lounge this time very slowly to enjoy her tasty breakfast. I am just in time to clean the mess as Cully-boy has noticed the very interesting white puddle with multi colored bits, in no time at all he is down on all fours and with open mouth and wagging tong he tries desperately to lap up all he can see. I grab him and give him a bowl of dry cereal, now this may seem mean, but he is very happy to eat it like this and I know it will land up on the floor eventually so there is less labor as I will only need to sweep.

This time I am clever I switch on the kettle, for the third time I have done so while I dash to clean up the mess and then stand by the kettle while hearing the faint cries from the desperate family for more juice, but I refuse to move. Do you know how long a kettle takes to boil? Yes - forever. The washing machine and the kettle switch off at the same time and once again I am sitting with two options: option one: make coffee, enjoy - hang out washing later or option two: hang out washing and come back and boil kettle again.

I come to the decision that South Africa is in an energy crisis and all the people governing this country would appreciate me saving electricity and not boiling the kettle four times for one cup of coffee, so finally I make my steamy awesome cup of coffee and retreat to the lounge while sipping it all the way there. As I sit down, I receive a wink from the husband, a multi colored smile from Nikita and a cuddle from Cully-boy. And suddenly I realize - who needs coffee at 06:30 in the morning anyway.

Monday, August 11, 2008

Bad Mommy Moment

Hannah has recently taken up Belly Dancing with me. We go to the classes together and we have a ball. She loves the shimmies and shakes and she's super-flexible - able to do far more with her tiny limbs than I ever could. All in all, it's a great mom-daughter bonding time.

Two weeks ago on belly dancing night, it was a particularly cold evening to be going out. Hannah was really keen to go, so I couldn't say no. We enjoyed the lesson, but when she came home, she began coughing. I didn't think too much of it and sent her to bed.

The next morning, she coughed through breakfast. Having forgotten about her coughing spell the previous evening (bad mommy moment number 1), and knowing that she can be a bit of a drama queen, I told her to give it a rest and eat her breakfast. She got ready for school, all the while coughing and complaining that she was feeling sick. I rolled my eyes and put it down to tiredness from the fun the night before. Later that morning, I waved her a cheery goodbye at her classroom door.

The phone call later that day went something like this:

"Hello, Mrs Dunlop?"


"It's Mrs X from XX Primary. Hannah's here in my office and she's having an asthma attack and she has a temperature. Could you come and fetch her?"

Um, why yes, I'll fetch her, and while I'm about it, I think I'll knock my head against the closest brick wall, all the while chanting: "Bad Mommy. Bad Mommy."

Your homework for this week is: Write a Bad Mommy Moment post from the past 2 weeks. Don't be shy: you know you've had one...