Memoirs of a Mediocre Mother: Spidey Takes a Tumble

Wednesday, March 16, 2011

Spidey Takes a Tumble

Several weeks ago, while I was attempting to bake blueberry muffins from the box, my youngest son, Jet, jumped from our computer chair while wearing his Spiderman outfit. The result: Two broken bones and Jet's teary-eyed indictment, (directed at my husband and myself) that, "You were supposed to catch me!" Of course, we were in the other room blissfully unaware of the dangers of rolling computer chairs combined with toddler Superhero role-play.

Daddy rushed Jet to the hospital while I stayed behind to get myself and my five year old, Tru, dressed for the day--despite the fact that it was almost noon. I hurriedly packed a bag of burnt blueberry muffins to take to Jet in the emergency room, only to be informed that he couldn't have anything to eat until after anesthesia--after I'd already allowed him to take a whiff of the bag, of course! Oops.

In the end, Jet ended up with a barrage of attention from doting nurses along with a souvenir set of X-rays, while I went online and ordered him the Darth Vader costume that I'd previously told him he couldn't have until Halloween because I'd been waiting for a sale.

And this, ladies and gentlemen, is why I don't cook.

2 comments:

CurtisMarch 16, 2011 at 11:03 PM
I wondered how Jet had broken his arm. Personally, I got hit by a car (the first kid in my grade to break an arm...the other two slipped on wet grass and fell of his dad's truck, respectively. I was also the first kid in my grade to catch chicken pox...I hope you don't have to go through that with them...)
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JenniferMarch 17, 2011 at 12:11 PM
Funny you should mention chicken pox, Curtis! I just opened an email from Tru's kindergarten teacher today informing us that the entire class has been exposed. Time for a Pox party?
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Mediocre Mother... guilty as charged

Here's the thing: I can barely boil water. For me, cooking is a survival skill and nothing that brings me any real sense of gratification. Eating, on the other hand--so long as it's out--I adore. Cleaning, I'm quite competent at, although most days I only do it in anticipation of company. Bedtime? What's that? My husband and I work in the entertainment industry (no, we're not porn stars, that would pay better) so regimented routine doesn't exactly come with the territory.

And here's the kicker, I don't always put my children first. Let's be clear, I don't beat them or mistreat them, but some days, selfishly, I make sure Mommy's happy above all else and let the rest follow suit. What's more, (get ready to gasp) I own a production company and work multiple unconventional jobs, (we'll get to that) including booking bands, circus performers, and being the troupe leader of a burlesque group. I once went so far as to neglect my children and house for days on end while completing my first novel of fiction, which STILL has yet to be published, despite signing a contract with a publishing agent.

It's hard NOT to feel guilty while surrounded by slews of seemingly perfect, well-put-together, organic-cookie-baking, scrapbook-making, other mothers my age. Some nights, after the same old tired rendition of "Rock-A-Bye Baby", I realize that the only thing I ever do perfectly in the space of a day for my children is LOVE THEM with my whole heart. This much, mediocre as I may be, I always manage to get right.