electric mist

the (ahem) "mommy" club

When I read Lizbeth's "oops" entry, I remembered all too well doing the same sort of thing. And the daylights savings times were always a royal pain in the ass, but there were other times that I probably should have been nominated "bad mommy" or something.

I swear, I would try to be a good mom. Really. But with two small kids and helping to run a company and going back to school full-time, I had precious little time to get any actual writing done, and given that's what the degree program was for, it was sort of essential. Besides, I lived to write, so carving out a few hours here or there was as necessary as breathing. When Jake was about two, I found a "mommy's day out" program not far from where we lived, and it was bliss -- I had five hours, two days a week to write. I loved having the kids, loved being able to work from home with the construction company stuff and the writing so I could do more with them... but I think I was always the very first person in line to drop Jake off in the morning, and the very last mommy to show up in the afternoon.

The writing kept me sane. (Sort of. Are any writers really sane?) I would get to the story and while it might take me a while to get revved up, to really get back into the zone, once I was there, I would lose all track of the real world. It was amazing, how productive those hours were, how in the zone I was. One day, I had been at if for a while, and the phone rang. First of all, I almost never hear the phone when it rings when I'm writing unless there happens to be a phone in the scene I'm working on, because I am that focused. Even if the phone is near my ear, I won't usually notice it, but I happened to be wrapping up a scene and when it rang for probably the fourth or fifth time, I sort of "came out of" the writing-coma-zone I had been in and answered it... I wasn't entirely "out" of the zone, because I said, "Hullo?" and a woman who seemed to know who I was started speaking, and said, "Toni? Are you still writing?"

Wow, a total stranger knew I was a writer, and while this should have tipped me off that something wasn't quite gelling in my head, I was still staring at the screen, already half-way immersed in the next scene. I think I mumbled a "yes" and then she asked, "Well, we were just wondering when you were going to come pick up Jake?"

I swear to God, my first reaction was to look at the scene and scan all the characters' names and think, "there's no Jake in here," and I said, "Jake who?"

There was a moment of silence. She said, "Um... Jake... you know... your son?"

I said,"Oh," still looking at the screen, and then it hit me... OH! Shit!

I looked at the time... they were supposed to have closed three hours ago and had tried to call a couple of times. She said they figured I was writing and they were enjoying him (he was such a fun kid), but they really had to go home now, so could I come get him.

I. Was. Mortified. It wasn't bad enough that I had forgotten him, but they heard me say, "Jake who?" Geez.

Yeah, I should be getting that mommy of the year award soon.

When Jake was in pre-K and then the next year in Kindergarten, he was a rather stubborn creature. It was incredibly hard sometimes to get him to do something he didn't want to do unless he could see a real reason for it, and there are just so many times you want to bang your head against a wall... and sure, technically, kids are supposed to do what the parent says just because they say so (does that actually ever work?)... but this kid? Nope. And rewards or punishment made no difference.

However... he was highly motivated by empathy and if he thought he might be hurting someone else, then he would do whatever it was you asked.

Okay, I am evil. I will admit it. I was having a particularly difficult time getting Jake to do something necessary that he flat didn't want to do, and I was exhausted and just needed to get him finished, and without really thinking about the psychological ramifications, right there on the spot, I made up the "mommy" club. And (here's the evil part), told him that if he didn't do that thing, I would be kicked out of the mommy club because "they" would think I was a bad mommy.

Poor little guy's eyes got as round as volleyballs, and he very meekly went and did whatever it was that I wanted, and I was just so freaking relieved to not have a battle on my hands for the one millionth time, I didn't think much about it.

Every once-in-a-while, though, we'd hit another stubborn streak and then he would say, "but I don't want you to get kicked out of the mommy club" in a little sweet voice, like a matyr going to the flames, and he'd go do whatever it was that was frustrating me.

When he was seven, he was over at his best friend's house. Thomas' mom and I had become extremely good friends, and she knew my abberant character pretty well... but when Thomas did something wrong and Jake said, "Oh, you can't do that! Your mom will get kicked out of the mommy club!" she said, "The what?" When he explained, she thought he was joking, and she exclaimed, "There's no such thing as the mommy club!"

Talk about having a good thing completely torpedoed.

He came home, looked me squarely in the eye, his little hands on his hips and said, "Mommy. There is NOT a mommy club."

And did I cop to it and apologize like a good mom?

Of course not. I said, "Miss Lisa just doesn't know about it, Jake, because only the really good mommies get in."

So, yes, I am definitely going to hell.

He's seventeen now, and no apparent scaring. Although he didn't keep buying that mommy club thing for much longer... but man, it was so nice when he did.

Posted by toni at April 8, 2004 06:57 PM