Mommy the Asshole

Mommy the Asshole

Mommy the Asshole

He stood on his tippy toes reaching, stretching, hoping for that last inch. The final grasp that, would make all of his dreams come true.

To triumphantly climb from the floor to the top of the couch where he can gaze and giggle out of the window as he pleases.

And alas, in the past few days his desires were met. And in those very same moments I was forced to step into a role that I had never thought about playing.

For I am now Mommy, the un-fun-maker. I squash my child’s pleasure by getting him off of table tops when his enthusiasm has reached its peak. I pull him down when he’s finally achieved full standing status IN. THE. WIN. DOW. I take away toys that are the most amazing thing to chew on and also happen to be the size of my sweet little angel’s windpipe.

I spend most of my day saying no to sad blue eyes while trying to be serious and firm. In the moments in between I’m angry that I’m being forced to play this role and understanding that it is necessary for his safety and evolution.

When I thought about becoming a mother it never crossed my mind that I would have to be an asshole for the good of my kid. I guess there was a part of me that thought my parents just enjoyed telling me “no.”

The unfortunate thing is that it takes us most of our lives to realize our own parents were just doing the best they could. And the miraculous thing is that we have the opportunity to understand that in the first place.

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