I Should Be Recalled
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This morning Husband retrieved our girls from their beds and got the morning started. I slept in. Until 7:30. Not super late. But late on Parent Planet. When I did get out of bed, I was moving slowly. But smiling. As a few fine folks in the Twittersphere already know, I had a big night out last night. A delicious night that involved gowns and tuxes and dinosaurs and Dave Matthews. A fabulous night on which I may or may not have accosted the current cast of Saturday Night Live with clumsy praise (Kristen Wiig said she liked my dress!) Last night was a night on which Husband and I were able to go back, briefly and beautifully, to the night we said “I do.” A night on which I was able to glimpse my past and my future, where the two compellingly commingled around that invincible and irresistible present moment. That moment we too often miss. That moment we too rarely revere.
And I am sorry to be cryptic, to tease you with tiny bits. I will tell you all about my night. Tomorrow though. Today, my head is somewhere else. And I need to go there.
Back to this morning. I didn’t have time to shower. I raced out the door with Toddler. I buckled her into the Bugaboo. And as I started bouncing her down our front steps, I heard a snap. Something on the stroller broke. We turned around and I put her in the other stroller. The Maclaren. The one that has been recalled. Yes. As many of you know, there has been a massive stroller recall because kids were getting their fingertips sliced off somehow. I didn’t actually look into the recall details. I’m a good mom like that. And I haven’t picked up the free protection part for this stroller. I’m a good mom like that.
So. Off we went toward school in the finger-slicing stroller. I caught a few moms glaring at me. We kept going. And then Toddler started begging for a donut. And so I pushed the finger-slicing stroller into Dunkin’ Donuts and proceeded to purchase a whopping donut for my little girl. Pink frosting. Rainbow sprinkles. Toddler is go big or go home when it comes to most things, including donuts. We continued on toward school.
Now there were more looks. Because I was THAT mom. The one hiding tired eyes behind big, obnoxious tortoiseshell shades on a decidedly unsunny morning. The one pushing a finger-slicing stroller with one hand and clutching an impossibly vast (and hot) latte in the other hand (the one directly over my girl’s innocent little head). The one pushing a lethal stroller filled with a young girl with a pink mustache and sprinkle whiskers. Yes, I was that mom. (And I will not confirm or deny whether Toddler had another pink sprinkled donut on the way home from school too.)
The point: I am that mom.
I am that mom a lot. Yesterday, I almost forgot Toddler’s good friend’s birthday party. When Husband came home on Wednesday, I was in my study (just to check something on the computer! for two seconds!) and Toddler was cross-legged on the glass coffee table coloring her hands with marker and Baby was running, yes running, on the couch. Today, I realized, was the last day of the Penny Harvest at Preschool and guess which mom forgot all about this cute opportunity to teach her tot about the goodness of giving?
I am that mom.
I should be recalled.
But this morning I kept walking. Because that is what we parents, we people, do. We march on. Past looks and judgments and donut stores. And then it happened. I passed another mom. She was coming toward me, frenzied, no doubt late. She too was pushing a finger-slicing stroller sans protective part. I looked at her girl. And this girl was eating a lollipop. At 8:30 in the morning. And as this mom rushed by me, I tried to catch her eye. I smiled. I am a New Yorker (ergo not good at smiling at strangers or even people I know). This smiling thing was not like me. And I am not sure she saw my smile. I hope she did though. I do.
And it hit me: We are all THAT mom. Or dad. Or person.
There are days when we feel like utter failures, when everything seems off, when we feel like hazards to the people we love. There are days when we feel we should be recalled. That some big announcement should be made alerting the world to our resident flaws, declaring that there are grave dangers inherent in our very design, that we are not fit for our particular purpose.
But then, thankfully, there are days when this seems extreme. When our imperfections are but exquisite scars earned in the game of life. When the fact that we are trying, and trying hard, counts for something. More than something. When the fact that we fumble and stumble, constantly, artfully almost, is what makes things interesting. And real. And worth it.
Thank you to a certain anonymous mom on the Upper West Side of Manhattan. And thank you to so many of you for reading my ramblings, for digesting my doubts, for sharing with me bits and pieces of your imperfect selves, for reminding me that I do not need to be recalled, for reminding me that I am not alone. That I am far from alone.
(Mom, Grammy, World – I am going to go pick up those protective parts tomorrow. Promise.)
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Do you have moments when you feel like you are defective and should be recalled, pulled from the societal market, for everyone’s good? Please share with me your Recall Me moments. Come on, this will be fun! And therapeutic! Who knows – maybe the funniest story will be made into a SNL skit since I am now buds with the cast. (Delusions are my buds too.)
Yes, I know this feeling well, and becoming a mother has definitely increased the moments where I feel it. By a mile. But you are absolutely right: they are scars, and imperfections, but nothing more than that. And trying is worth a lot.
You should not, ever, be recalled. I know I’d be lost!
The recall notions get stronger or maybe just more often with age. #5 is 19 and home from college, sent home on Monday with the flu. He goes to school on a dry campus so, of course and without my initial knowledge, brought his stash of alcohol with him so it would not be found. #3 is 22 and unemployed graduate, living at home and substitute teaching until she finds her own classroom. She says I am horrible because I didn’t take the bottle of Johnny Walker Red from #5. #’s 1, 2, 3, and 4 would not have gotten away with what #5 is but I am tired of being mom this week. Recall me or make me really like Johnny Walker Red and I will just drink it on #5.
“When the fact that we fumble and stumble, constantly, artfully almost, is what makes things interesting.”
Today NPR’s Fresh Air re-aired a broadcast of an interview with Judd Apatow. (http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=120608834) Toward the end of the interview (after discussing Seth Rogen’s filthy sense of humor) he talks about why he is so drawn to flawed characters. And he states that perfect, mature, happy people aren’t interesting (or funny).
The fact of the matter is that none of us is perfect. And if we try to pretend that we are then we are probably dull on the surface and fearful underneath. As for me, I got pulled over driving to work yesterday. And I frequently run into door frames. In your words, Aidan, cheerio!
If you get recalled, then we’re all getting recalled.
Just yesterday, I was sitting in a parent/teacher conference. I played the role of parent. Wore my argyle cardigan to look smart. Had important questions written on a pad. My son’s second grade teacher and I were discussing son’s behaviors and the fact that he is very chatty and social and sometimes interrupts the teacher. “Oh that is unacceptable,” I said.
A few minutes later, the teacher was in the middle of a statement and I INTERRUPTED HER. I spoke two complete sentences and then shut up after realizing she was looking me straight in the eyes and continuing on with her statement.
Recall me.
I’m certain the teacher now knows “where he gets it” and that “the apple (or nut) doesn’t fall far from the tree.”
It’s doughnuts and deathly strollers today and embarrasing yourself in front of professional educators tomorrow. Get used to it:)
We’ve all been there. I feel like I need a recall when I lose my temper. Really lose my temper, even though it doesn’t happen often, and I apologize after. Would that it were as simple as a little spilled coffee or too many donuts.
On the other hand, I do allow teenage parties. So I suspect my kids won’t have me recalled just yet.
Nicki — I love your comment!
I could list many reasons why I should also be recalled (including the fact that I give my baby her 1PM bottle while we watch Days of our Lives and I *WANT* her to like it), but I try to remind myself that we all came out okay with strollers that wouldn’t meet today’s safety standards. Right?
Today’s recall moment: today I was at the bank trying to get a cashier’s check for our mortgage refi (which I was already late to go sign papers for) when I looked up and couldn’t find my kids. Then I saw the disapproving glance of the teller and the “looks” from the patrons standing in line. I followed their eyes to the alcove between the two bank doors. My two year old was holding the outer door shut with both hands while more people tried to get into the bank. My four year old was pushing random buttons on the ATM as it was beeping furiously at him.
I gathered my things as quickly as I could (dang those slow bank printers) and took my sticky, trouble-making kids out of that bank at light speed. I always thought moms who couldn’t keep track of their kids were just not trying hard enough.
I’m ready for my recall at any time.
Once again… I just loved your post. We are absolutely ALL that mom. I definitely am and I’m totally fine with it. Today, for example, at the playground, large Dunkin Donuts coffee in hand trying to prevent Luke from falling out of all of the open spaces on the climbing structures with one free hand. Had I needed two hands to catch him, I may have dropped him before my coffee actually. And yesterday, at the grocery store, I made a point of saying loudly enough for another mom to hear that I was NOT buying Luke a truck from the toy aisle. He didn’t NEED another truck. And then she saw me, at checkout, paying for the truck.
We do what we have to do to keep ourselves sane, to stay true to our (differing) priorities. And anyone can roll their eyes at us but I think more moms will smile at us knowing they’ve been there too.
Know this feeling. I once forgot an umbrella when I picked up my daughter from school. It wasn’t raining that hard and I decided to make it a fun venture. We splashed in puddles and turned our faces up to the rain, giggling and having a grand time dancing in the rain.
Another mother pulled up in a station wagon, her kids were in the back with their faces pressed against the window watching us. She glared at me and asked what kind of mother I was.
What kind of mother was I? I told her I’m the kind of mother my kid would remember fondly dancing in the rain with. I’m the kind of mother that knew enough to take her home get her dried off and a warm bath afterward, soup or hot chocolate would do the rest. Before I walked away with my daughter I asked her, what kind of memories will your kids have. A disgruntled mother who finds fault with people she doesn’t know. I looked at the kids in the back seat and wished I could of let them in on the fun.
And that’s the kind of mother I was. We can’t predict everything and our humanity won’t allow for perfection. So we simply do the best we can. Mother’s like us, give our kids something to remember. I apologize if my comments are overly long. You leave some interesting questions to be answered.(Hugs)Indigo
I don’t think you should be recalled.
“And it hit me: We are all THAT mom. Or dad. Or person.”
I have had moments when I wonder, maybe I should never have become I mom! I am (insert adjective) and (another adjective) and probably the worst mom of all!
Then, I do something perfect. I catch my daughter before she falls. I pick my son up and offer him exactly what he wants (which, let’s face it, is the boob because he is only 2 weeks old). I do not get upset when my daughter has a melt down.
One recall moment happened to be when I allowed my daughter to play with my keys. No danger, right? WRONG. She took off with them in her mouth, fell, and started bleeding. Oh. My. I felt horrible. And, this was in front of other moms. Well, you can imagine what their faces looked like. Of course, they probably would not have let their daughter run with keys, but I had to learn sometime, I guess.
My recall moments? Sorry, but too many to fit into your comment space…
If you don’t tell us about the DMB night I might die.
I am that mom.
I protest being recalled.
I think I should be cloned.
As harried and awful as the days can be, I get it done! And so do you! And we have learned from a long chain of women who, smart little them, made it look easy and did it with “grace.” The same things your girls will believe of you as they grow older. Unless, of course, they read this post about the pink sprinkles. Um, no. Then they’ll just love you more. I’m sure of it.
If nothing else is true, know this:
all is right in truth.
Words. Purpose. Action.
Right?
(Don’t mind me. Delirious at this point.)