I have never been one of those mothers that gets all weepy when my kid does something mean to me. I’ve been smacked, bitten, kicked, head butted, tugged on, scratched, pinched…
Keep in mind, I’m no push over in regards to violence. It doesn’t happen very often and when it does I make it real clear, real quick that I am not the one to be kicked around. There are ways to do that without loosing your cool. Sometimes I use those ways and sometimes I don’t but this post is not really about that.
It’s about Isaiah’s latest bad habit.
Yep, I am a mean, mean mommy. He started saying it awhile ago. At first I just let it roll off. As long as he obeys….Then I realized how disrespectful! In his mind, mean is the worst thing he can call me. What if someday he decides I’m being a real
b@$%#? What will I do then?
The next approach was….better explained with an example.
Me: Oh, you think one day is bad without a video game?! Just wait. I’ll show you mean! No video games for a week! No three months! Say something else!
You are just green with envy at my amazing parenting skills, aren’t you?
Something in me starts playing the dozens when he calls me mean. I want to take him to the mattresses. I know that I am a good mother. I know that after God gave that child life, he has been dependent on my love for food, shelter and guidance. When he calls me mean, I want to karate chop the ungrateful bugger.
But I don’t. I finally got a better idea.
I tell him to put it in writing.
What? Did you say something? I can’t hear you. Yeah…I thought so.