When I was little all I wanted to do was “help” my mom cook. She never really let me, always saying that it’s just easier if she did it herself. I thought she was mean.
When I was little all I wanted to do was “help” my mom clean. She never really let me, always saying that it’s just easier if she did it herself. I thought she was mean.
When I was little my mom used to sometimes ignore me completely while talking on the phone to her friends. Try as I might I could not get her to hang up the damn phone and pay attention. I thought she was mean.
When I was little my mom only let me play with play dough outside. She thought it was messy. I thought she was mean.
Well, as I type this my kids are outside in the cold playing with play dough while I ignore them and pay attention to my computer instead. Before busting out the play dough and sending them outside, I considered a cooking project, but just couldn’t bring myself to face it. The mess, the grossness of their runny noses and germy fingers… ugh. Another project I have to do is clean the house. REALLY clean it. Both kids are in heaven when handed a spray bottle and a rag. Even though I usually clean with a vinegar/water mixture which the kids can safely handle, I know from experience that my kitchen will be a puddle of vinegar because they both prefer spraying to wiping. So I’ll just do it myself.
Conclusion: I learned to be mean from my mom.
Motherhood, WTF? 