I’m not your typical mom. I struggle with the whole motherhood thing and I think it’s because I had a kid before I was ready. I was 22 when I had him, which is older than most new moms now and days, but I hadn’t graduated from college, traveled the world and I’m still not married. The kid aggravates me probably more than 50% of the time and I don’t get those warm fuzzies of fulfillment that most moms experience. You know how most moms feel their life is complete because they had a kid? I never understood that feeling. It doesn’t take much work to conceive a child and pretty much anyone can do it. It’s not like completing a degree or climbing a mountain, it’s more like catching the flu. When people list having kids as an accomplishment I always think “Ohhh, so you’re a loser who never did anything with your life…” Plus it’s like you’re bragging that you pooped out a baby and your baby more than likely sucks. They could turn into a felon, or a whore or an average joe with nothing valuable to contribute to society. You never know what type of jerk you’re gonna raise, so why brag about making babies when it hasn’t done anything brag worthy?
Speaking of raising jerks, my kid isn’t your typical kid. He has a bad temper, he cries a lot, and has told me on more then one occasion that he’s running away to grandma’s house. He’s impulsive, just recently got over his fear of balls, and has tendencies to not be very happy or friendly. He’s 3, who wants to babysit?
Our interactions aren’t typical for your average mother-son duo. We have the strangest relationship ever, but it works. He kisses my boo boos just like I do for him. He tells me I’m pretty, and sometimes he shares his fruit snacks with me. We hug and kiss each other and say I love you but we don’t really like each other. It’s like we both know we’re kinda stuck for the next few years and just try to make the best of our situation. I’m not just speaking from my perspective either. I know he doesn’t like me because he told me the other day. He said “I not like you”. My feelings were hurt so I told him “I not like you either.” We then just sat in the room not talking to each other for several hours until he got hungry and yelled at me to make him some white pasta.
We argue a lot. We argue a lot but it works for us. We mainly argue because of his inability to tell the truth or know what the heck. He cries and screams loudly in public. He often makes things up and pulls douchebag moves like walks slow when I’m in a hurry or throws objects that I asked him to hand to me. He tells people that I have a tail and that I wear diapers which is completely untrue. When he goes potty, he calls me to wipe him because he’s finished but then yells at me to leave because he’s not done. He tells me he wants white pasta, then when I’ve finished preparing it, he says he didn’t want white pasta, he wants chicken nuggets. After I’ve made the chicken nuggets he says he wants pasta and after I make the pasta he says chicken nuggets again. I make the chicken nuggets then he yells at me because I didn’t make fries. He’s been calling me a shpoogie woogie for the past few weeks and I don’t really know what that means but it doesn’t sound like a compliment so I decided I was offended.
It’s difficult to converse with him. Partly because he’s three and also because he’s a jerk and also because he’s a boy.
Me: “Landon go use the potty”
Landon: “Me not have to potty”
Me: “Landon use the potty”
Landon: “No I not use the potty, you use the potty”.
Me: “I don’t need to use the potty I already went.”
Landon: “You not went to the potty, you potty on yourself”
Me: “Landon pull down your pants and use the potty!!!”
Landon: “I don’t need to potty!” as he uses the potty
Me: “I thought you didn’t need to potty Landon?”
Landon: “I not potty”
Me: “And you better not tell people I went to the potty on myself”
Landon: “I tell everybody…”
I use to struggle with my semi-pessimistic feelings towards the kid. I don’t like spending every waking moment with him and I can actually think of a billion things I’d rather be doing then raising a kid. Traveling without stressing about a sitter, using the bathroom in peace or eating ice cream by myself are just a few. As time goes on, I notice that I struggle less with motherhood. Landon and I don’t get along every single second of the day and most people who love each other don’t. We argue a lot but I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that I miss him when he’s gone and I sit in my room and watch spongebob after he leaves. He lies his arse off, but his stories make me smile. Like when he told his teacher that his name was Dee Dee Harris or when he came home and said his dad poops standing up. Even when he called me a shpoogie woogie, my response was “Your daddy is a shpoogie woogie” but in the inside I smiled at his creativity. Who thinks of words like that?
He doesn’t like me and I don’t like him, but we love each other regardless of our flaws and I think that’s more respectable. I’d prefer my children love me because I earned it, and not because I’m the person who randomly pooped them out. We’re not the traditional family who love each other because of our title, we’re actually better.