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Scary Mommy Society


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04 · 24 · 2012

I Am My Mother. And….

Anne Kimball has worn many hats throughout the years: waitress, paint salesman, telemarketer, chambermaid, Occupational Therapist.  Her most challenging profession by far, though, has been SAHM to six (that’s right, six) kids, five of whom are teenagers. She writes her blog Life on the Funny Farm to maintain her tenuous grip on sanity.  

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We’ve all done it.

“Don’t run with scissors!” And you clap your hand over your mouth the instant the words are out.

You have become your mother.

I knew it had happened to me when I told one of my kids to be sure they were wearing clean underwear in case they got hit by a truck.

What the…?

Upon further reflection, however, I’ve come to realize I have become not just my mother, but many women.

Remember watching the movie Sybil when you were a kid? How Sally Field had a couple dozen “personalities” living inside her, each coming out when he or she was most needed? Well, same thing here. Not to disrespect those suffering the affliction of Multiple Personality Disorder. I’m just sayin’, many hands make light work of this parenting game.

Most of the personalitites I channel are Moms from TV or the movies. Some are not even Moms, but I still need them. I pull them out of my neurological wallet and channel them as the situation mandates.

I’ve compiled a list of those women, and I share it with you here….

1) Martha Stewart. I call on Martha anytime one of my kids has a school project due in 12 hours. With her composed assistance I am able to procure styrofoam balls, hot glue, and sequins from me arse, and help them to craft a Nobel-worthy creation.

2) Carol Brady. There’s nothing about her I really need. I’ll admit it: I’m jealous. She is a stay-at-home Mom of six (check) with a handsome, professional husband and a lovely home (check) with full-time domestic help (no check). I want an Alice! If I had an Alice I could float through the house with perfect make-up, nails and dress, while Alice took care of the cooking and cleaning so I could tend to Marsha’s broken nose or try to discern if Greg is telling the truth about those cigarettes in his pocket. My right arm for an Alice. My firstborn for an Alice. Seriously. Someone get me an Alice.

3) Gloria Pritchett. (from Modern Family) I wah uh kih-er bah-ee. Sorry, I was eating a Ring Ding. Lemme try again: I want a killer body.

4) Minnie (from The Help) With a can of Crsico in hand, Minnie could rule the world. She could fry up a chicken, get a tangle out of someone’s hair, and quiet that squeaky hinge.

5) Roseanne Connor. I sometimes need Roseanne’s tell-it-like-it-is mouth, with no PC filter. Problem is, she usually shows up late and I end up telling someone off in my head on the drive home. We need to work on coordinating our timing.

6) Nurse Ratched. (from One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest) OK, not a Mom, but nevertheless. I want her cool, quiet, composure while all hell is breaking loose around her. ”Mr. Cheswick, sit down. I will answer your question when you are calm. Are you calm now, Mr. Cheswick?”

7) Shirley Partridge. I need her when it’s time to get all the kids someplace. Now, the psychadelic bus helps, to be sure, but anyone who can get five kids out the door and to a gig on time has got my vote for having it all together. Plus, she can solve any of the kid’s problems by singing a song. Nice, as abilities go.

8) Morticia Addams. Let’s face it, she looks fabulous in black, and she runs her family smoothly, all while keeping just enough of a kooky edge about the place. Non-conformity rules!

9) Ree Drummond. Aka The Pioneer Woman. Aka PW. Who wouldn’t want a healthy dose of Ree in her mental make-up? She’s the effortless homeschooling mother of four little ranch-hands and the adorable wife to one gorgeous hunk of cowboy. She writes, she cooks, she makes it all look easy. When she comes out in me, she makes me chocolate sheet cake and iced coffee in a mason jar and I love her.

Oh dear. What is this? I only have nine women on my list and that’s just all lopsided and uneven and yucky. Someone please! Suggest a 10th for me. I must have 10 women in my multiple personalities file. Otherwise my OCD will throw a tantrum.

Eight months ago, my nine year old son tearfully shared with me that “his whole life, he had wanted to be a girl”. Pressed by the therapist (who, thank G-d, was in the room with us) to clarify whether he wants to be a girl or is a girl, George immediately replied that he is a girl. And so began a crazy-ass adventure that I never, in a million years, expected to find my child or, frankly, myself, on.

To be clear, my husband Rich and I always knew that George (who is now Jessie) was different from not only our older son, but from other kids – male and female alike. With sparkling eyes and a wildly observant and funny personality, he was known by everyone everywhere we went. Never one to shy away from a conversation or situation (particularly if it involved dolls, dresses, wigs or mermaid tails) he captured the attention of anyone he came into contact with. When behaviors that concerned us in preschool and kindergarten – including, but by no means limited to his self portraits (a frequent drawing assignment) consistently depicting a girl in a dress with long, flowing hair – continued with even greater vigor in first-, second- and third-grades we concluded that he was probably going to grow up to be gay, yet didn’t quite buy it ourselves. He was a boy who greatly appreciated a beautiful girl and what she was wearing. He never met a doll, wig, dress or mermaid tail that he didn’t feel a total compulsion to own – no matter how strongly he had to fight for it. And despite the fact that he was not even slightly effeminate, there were several occasions that he harassed and harangued me for hours on end requesting everything from hair extensions to wigs to dolls. It never added up. And then he asked for (and by “asked for” I mean “demanded”) a pierced ear.

Our initial reaction to the earring request was that “little boys don’t wear earrings”, but he was having none of it. As he obsessively pursued this request it became increasingly clear that it was not a desire, but a need…

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04 · 17 · 2012

A Child Free Life

“You’ve really got to get yourself one of these,” my friend’s husband said to me while pointing at his five-year-old daughter.

“I’m going to pass.” I looked at him and smiled, trying to be pleasant. While I’m fairly confident he didn’t mean to sound like having a child was as easy as picking up a pack of sea monkeys from Target, the comment left me bristling.

Sensing my uneasiness, he continued, “I just mean that you’d make wonderful parents.”

“I don’t need to have a child. I can borrow yours whenever I want ” I toasted to his good fortune at having free babysitting and then took another swig of my drink.

This topic of conversation has come up more than once and it always seems to be the men who start it with me. Most women wouldn’t be stupid enough to casually drop that kind of line in public on another woman. It would be kind of like me saying to my friend’s husband, “You know, they’re doing great things with hair plugs these days.” I don’t understand why one would tolerate going bald but I’m not going to question another person’s right to let it happen. Well, I’m not going to do it in front of a room full of people at least.

Don’t get me wrong. I like children. Let me be more specific. I like some children. I have two very close friends with kids who I adore. They are sweet and fun and when we’ve all had enough of each other, I can go home without them. Unfortunately, I can’t say the same thing of my girlfriends…

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