Being a Mom is an adventure… Or so they say. I think it’s more like an elixir for premature aging and insanity. I love my kids… and would die for them, but there are days that their antics remind me why I am also on anti-anxiety meds and going to therapy.
Then, there are times that people say things so stupid about being a mom that I just want to punch them in the face so I can have a little vacation behind bars. One lady stuck her finger in my face and told me, “Just remember, you are a MOM! Don’t forget that!”
Right, I forgot that I am a Mom somewhere between drinking a pot of coffee and sorting through Mount Clothesmore.
Does this lady even have any kids? HOW does anybody forget that they are a mom? I mean, besides Alzheimer’s, amnesia, or Traumatic Brain Injury, I can’t see just randomly forgetting that I have children… and that is where this Top 6 List came from… Some nosey woman’s idiotic comment.
As if having two kids that follow me around yelling “MOM!” isn’t enough to remind me that I am a Mom on a daily basis, here is my Top 6 List of Things That Remind Me I am a Mom.
#6: “Oh yea, I am a Mom” reminder: Having to call 911 for a stove fire
It’s not that I never set my kitchen on fire before, I have. But things you learn about kitchen fires aren’t always at the front of your mind when teaching your children fire safety. Nowhere in the in the little lesson book on fire safety did it ever mention anything about grease fires. Sure, they had “Stop, Drop, and Roll” but the one thing they failed to teach was “NEVER THROW WATER ON A GREASE FIRE!!!” Just in case you don’t know what happens, here is a YouTube video to traumatize you.
My children were making fries the other day and managed to set the stove on fire. For all of you who keep saying “PARENTAL SUPERVISION!”
- My boys are 17 (almost 18) and 14-1/2. They know how to cook.
- I was right there with them and stepped out of the room for like, a minute!
- I don’t need to be present to watch my kids set the kitchen on fire BY ACCIDENT.
- Do you want me to spoon feed them, wipe their butts, and hold their hands still???
- Maybe I should just wrap them in bubble wrap and put a helmet on them?
#5: “Oh yea, I am a Mom” reminder: Having to call the landlord
In the four and a half years I have lived here, I have had to call the landlord a couple times to report something my kids broke or set on fire… (See #6). Those awkward moments usually start with “So I told the Fire Chief that I would call you…” with a reply of “Please don’t burn down the apartments.” And over the years here is a small sampling of things I have had to call the landlord for because, oh yea, I have kids!
- “Hey, R*, so, uhm, yea, Miles dropped the window and it shattered.”
- — “He did what?” —
- “Dropped the window… on the floor… it came off the tracks or something”
- — *crickets chirping*
- *crickets chirping* “The FLOOR collapsed???”
- “Yes, ma’am”
- *crickets chirping*
- “How did you manage to do that?”
- “I think we had too much stuff running on one circuit.”
- “Define ‘too much stuff’ for me.”
- “Uhm, the dryer was running, I have three air conditioners running, the crock pot, the tea maker and when I started the coffee pot all the power went out and I tried to flip the breaker back but nothing is happening.”
- “Uh-huh.” *crickets chirping*
- “…but it was a total accident…”
- “Mendek didn’t know about throwing water on a grease fire and…”
- “And it went up in flames! And I called 911 and…”
- “…everyone is okay but the stove is toast and…”
- “Don’t do that.”
- “Okay” *awkward nervous laughter*
And somehow, that day I forgot I had children, right? Yes. and moments later the flames, sirens and hot men running into my house brought me back to reality…
#4: “Oh yea, I am a Mom” reminder: Smoke Bombs in the bathroom
I used to work outside the home, y’know, I had a “real job” working in a nursing home. My cousin would come over to my house and hang out with the kids while I worked. Having kids with health issues, occasionally I would get a call asking about medications or what their normal peak-flow should be.
One night I got a call my cousin and he said Mendek was having trouble breathing even after his Albuterol treatment. I told my nurse I would be right back… I live like two minutes away… and she said okay. I head home to find him wheezing still and as I set up his breathing treatment, I asked why it smelled so bad in the house. Here’s how to conversation went:
- Me: What is that smell?
- Cousin: Oh that’s the smoke bomb.
- The smoke bomb?!
- Yea! We were seeing if you set off a smoke bomb underwater if the cloud of smoke would stay in the water so we filled the sink, lit one and dropped it in.
- You let them SET OFF a SMOKE BOMB!? … IN MY HOUSE!? Here son, start breathing into this. In my BATHROOM SINK!?
- Well, yea. I told them it would be a bad idea. But, they wanted to try it anyway.
- And you LET THEM?
- Well, yea, I can’t tell them no, they’re twice my size.
- You are supposed to be the responsible adult here…
- HEY! You said you needed an adult to stay with them! You didn’t say anything about being responsible!
- Touche. He needs to breath all this until it’s gone. Afterwards check his peak-flow. If it’s still low, bring him to my work and we’ll watch him there.
- Okay. Hahaha! Have fun at work!
- AND NO MORE FIRE STUFF IN THE HOUSE!
- Kids and Cousin: “Yes, Ma’am.”
[Insert call to landlord] “This is R*.” “Hi, R*, this is Dotchi.” *dial tone* “Hello?”
#3: “Oh yea, I am a Mom” reminder: Poise Pads
One thing that people fail to tell you about having children is that you will pee on yourself even after you have the baby. Poise Pads (Affiliate Ad), or some off-brand version (Affiliate Ad) of them, will soon become a bathroom staple until you get your dribbling under control.
Oh sure, you can have this issue for other reasons, like back injuries, but I am blaming my kids this week since I had to replace the stove and peed on myself from the stress of the whole town’s Emergency crew showing up on my front porch.
#2: “Oh yea, I am a Mom” reminder: The police keep bringing them back
Oh those awkward moments when the cops show up and ask “Are you Miles’ mom?” Followed by a lecture on curfew laws and a million questions about how you met his friend, JW, and how long we’ve known him and why he is hanging out with my son.
Those are the moments I relive in therapy, especially since we learned the JW is on the Montana Sex Offender List and shouldn’t be hanging out with minors. If ever I needed a nervous breakdown, I nearly had one that night.
Oh, those awkward moments when you have to sit down with your teenage son and ask questions like “Did he ever… y’know…” and you’re interrupted by “NO! The cops already asked me about that.”
On an up note, the officer was hot (so was his partner) and he was pretty nice too. He was also easy to talk to and wasn’t intimidating… other than the badge, uniform, and the fact that they had my son in the back of the patrol car.
#1: “Oh yea, I am a Mom” reminder: Co-Parenting Phone Calls
Being separated has it’s benefits (we don’t have to live together or see each other and we can pretend we aren’t married) but also has it’s downsides (like, we still have kids together and joint custody and I have to call him whenever something goes wrong with the kids.)
There are many times I have had to make joint-custody calls (see 6, 5, 4, and 2) to inform him of something the kids did and every time, I just wait for the sighs and the facepalm moment.
The upside is that he is their dad and knows how they are. The downside is… well, I have to call him and inform him when they do something stupid or if they have a doctors appointment. My least favorite calls are when the EMT, Fire Department or Police Departments are involved.
Oh sure, I get eye candy-time looking at hot bald men in uniform… but then I have to call the kid’s dad and tell him what things his kids have done to give me grey hair and wrinkles.