Now That I've Seen The Job, I Know I'm Not Qualified

"Mom, when are we going to get there? Mama, may I have a vitamin? Mom, I thought you said I could shave my legs? Mommy, I don't think you fed us lunch. Did you feed us lunch?"

All questions must be submitted in writing. That's my number one rule, followed by, if you decide to acquiesce to this request, make sure it's in German. I can't really read German, but I wouldn't read it if it were in English, so that isn't really the point.

Who are these people and why do they sit at the dining room table three times a day waiting for yet another meal. More importantly, am I ruining their lives? I try to limit asking myself this question to once an hour.

I distinctly remember the first time Jonathan told me his stomach hurt as if I knew what to do about it. I momentarily panicked. Gee, I'm the mom. My mom seemed so knowledgeable when I told her my stomach hurt. But come to think of it, none of her remedies ever worked. So maybe she was pretending... All of this flashed through my mind as I gazed steadily into Jonathan little upturned concerned face. He clearly thought I knew the answer. I remembered....

I remembered being 4 years old and climbing out of mom's blue mustang at the mall. I needed tennis shoes, and I got some that day at Macy's. The shoes had an appliqued Miss Piggy on each shoe. I really thought this was terrific because I could do the most amazing rendition of Miss Piggy karate chopping Kermit the Frog. I was good. At least my entire Kinder Care class thought I was good.

As I pushed the front seat forward in the Mustang and stepped past the seatbelt out the door, my elbow banged on the latch and it hurt. I yelped a bit. Mom said," I'll fix it for you," and then she kissed my elbow.

I thoroughly expected that the pain would be completely gone upon impact between elbow and lips, but to my complete astonishment, nothing happened. I was shocked and speechless. And then I felt very protective of my mother. She could never know that her kisses were broken. So I pretended that it was perfect and instantaneous healing powers she had, stuck my chin in the air, announced "all better" and took her offered hand though my elbow still throbbed. My mom was so convinced of my act that just two days ago when my daughter Vivian hurt her leg, Nana announced that her kisses had the power to heal instantly. It had always worked for Vivian's mama (me). I decided not to tell mom the real version. It was 30 years ago. Why break the magic now?

So back to Jonathan and his stomach. I realized that I needed Bentanite and I was totally unprepared for this moment. In his 3 year old world, he needed to know that his mother knew exactly what remedy a hurting tummy needed, and I gave it my best shot, and wondered if he pretended it worked so that he could protect me from my failures.

Worn down by years of being a self-admitted failure at this journey called motherhood, a 9 year old Charles announced his stomach hurt, and he bent over in half by the sheer pain of it, and looked at me with the look. The look that says, "you know what to do, now share your knowledge."

I shrugged in defeat. "Charles, I have no idea what your problem is. But I can offer suggestions. Sit on the toilet. Have some Bentonite, lay on the sofa doubled over in half until the pain goes away. I have bad news. When you become a mother, no one hands you blue prints. You just sort of muddle through the thing as best you can, and pray to God that He gives your children the strength to endure you."

Charles accepted this answer with amazing maturity. In fact, I think he appreciated my bluntness. And then it occurred to me. He's probably been protecting me from my ineptitude for years as well, and now it's a relief to know he doesn't have to.