Moms Don't Do This...

A mother’s voice can penetrate like no other. I made the regretted decision of calling my mother first thing this morning. Obviously distracted by a blaring YouTube music video in the background, I offered to call her back. Unnoticed, she went on to rant about what I thought would be her real estate predicament. “Oh, so I may have found someone to rent out your grandma’s condo to…ya-da-ya-da-ya-da- Damn! This pianist is amazing!” Following her tangent, I replied, “Yeah, I love listening to piano, I wish I knew how to play. I always wanted to take lessons.” Then without any hesitation, nor filtration from cognitive thought to voice, she replied, “Sandy, you would never make it.” And there it was, so matter-of-fact. Absolute. Six hellish words that have pitch forked my life for the past 29 years; six words that have paved my non-directional path.

“You would never make it.” “It’s different, because you’re a girl.” “You would not be good at that.” “You wouldn’t like it anyway.” “We’ll see if you will actually graduate.” Her venomous inclinations always administered directly into my veins. Slowly. Over time, poisoning my self-esteem. Her unspoken words, mannerisms, and glances of doubt, all sting and scar more severely than any instrument or substance on earth.

What’s wrong with me? What have I done to give her this impression? Why do others who are close, see me through such different eyes? I must have done something wrong. Maybe I didn’t walk soon enough, speak as well as others, or live up to her expectations. I don’t know. But I do know that on my own, I skipped a year in high school, was awarded a full scholarship in college, always graduated at the top of my class, and have been placed in charge of many nursing staff, most older than my mother. Alone. I accomplished them all without her support. No mom cheering in my section. I suppose those things have no merit. No tangible worth. Well at least, not to her.

As I write this, I’m sitting at a playground with my daughter. My eyes wring out familiar tears, as I hope to cultivate finer ways within her. I also can’t help but look around and wonder. How many of these uncontaminated children will be filled with poison? Their emotional growth stunted before even given a chance to laugh or cry? How many will suffer the uncensored disappointments of their mothers, consciously and unconsciously, echoing in their minds forever.

Duck. Duck. Duck. Duck- GOOSED!

For the 1 in 1,002,701 people this could happen to, I found a solution that can save time and sanity.

I recently read an article from a well-respected mom author. She claims that a child’s desire to learn is just a part of nature. They are merely “scientists researching cause and effect”. And if we, as parents, can turn off the nagging inclination to say, “stop!” then we can truly begin to see our children as constant unfolding miracles.

Well, my 2-year old daughter is certainly a little Einstein. There is no coincidence that her initials are E.M.C. And as for experimentation, yep, she does plenty of it. You see she has toys, lots of them. She has accumulated so many in recent weeks, that I can barely keep track of them. In fact, I don’t think she can either. So suddenly, toys from last month are practically new again, and toys from last year are jackpot.

In early summer I made an impulse purchase. We passed the luring $1 dollar section of a store, always conveniently placed right at the front entrance. My daughter screamed, “Duckie, pink…mommy!” I thought, why not? One dollar for a more peaceful day of running errands, sure. Now if only I had the foresight to see that I was inviting a cheap, pink, plastic menace into my house, only to steal what little sanity I have left after 2 years.

Usually we keep the duck in the tub for bath time. Somehow, the pink creature got loose and found it’s way into my living room. Now I’m no scientist, but this duck, has no feet.

Its pink effervescence summoned my Madame Curie over to explore. On one side of the duck, there is a round hole that allows access to fill it with water. So of course with the faucet out of her reach, what else could she use instead? She scoured the room. Minutes passed before she managed to excavate old wooden shapes tucked beneath an end table, and filled the duck with perfectly shaped cylinders to fit right into the hole in the duck; Genius, right? Negative.

Cause: Pink duck full of wooden cylinder shapes.
Effect: Mom loses her mind trying to get them out.

Did I mention that the duck is made of plastic? Hard plastic? An unyielding, cheap, fluorescent plastic with just one hole the same diameter of 1 cylinder. Oh, and she managed to wedge in five of them? Five little soldiers all lined up in there, waiting to take me down.

For two hours I tried everything. Cutting the hole larger. Shaking. Shaking gently. Tilting it. I did everything short of throwing the stupid $1 dollar toy into the trash.

Then it happened. A voice over my shoulder said, “Here honey, let me help you.”
OH NO! No freaking way. I panicked. My mind raced. I had to figure this out, and quick. Sure no life was on the line, but now my sanity and pride were at stake. But how do I get those damn things out? Hmm. A light bulb flickered above my head… Ah ha, yes! And off into the kitchen I went to find the tool to prove my hypothesis.

Approximately five minutes later, all 5 cylinders were in my captivity, and the duck was put away on a high shelf. I fished each little bugger out and made sure my daughter watched and learned from my own experiment.

I think it’s safe to say, that the next time I see anything go near this duck, my nagging inclination to say, “Stop!” will definitely be turned on.
Notice the Scotch tape. Listen up moms. Washable crayons, stain remover, AND scotch tape are toddler essentials ;)