April 3, 2008 by Marj Hatzell
Not really. I was informed by the powers that be (ie – Bug Boy) that I am apparently the worst Mommy ever.
See, Bug Boy got it into his pretty little head this morning (and it is pretty, ask people who know me IRL) that if he INSTANTLY jumped out of bed at 6:30, took his meds, ate breakfast, cleaned up, brushed his teeth and put his bag by the door in record time that he’d be allowed to play Wii. I think he is confused. I did say (and this is where that literal/Black & White thingy with Asperger’s comes in) that Wii is EARNED for good behavior and following directions. We have a chart that keeps track. He is never, EVER allowed to play on a school day/night, and only earns short playing times on weekends in between family activities. Somehow, because of the way his mind works, he figured that if he had excellent behavior this morning…
Sigh. Double sigh. He was crushed. He could not figure it out. And then he whined, “But then WHAT CAN I DO?” and I suggested, “How about reading a library book or sitting with me for a few minutes?” And he was all, “NO WAY! THAT’S BORING!” And I was all, “You have a whole basement full of boring!” And he was all, “THAT’S NOT FAIR! YOU’RE MEAN! YOU ARE THE WORST MOMMY EVER!” And I was all, “Tell me something I don’t know. Now go read.”
Never mind that this is the child who has his own personal library in his bedroom. The same child that begs for gift certs for holidays and birthdays so that he can buy his own. The same child who has thirty books circled from the book club order form before I even get to open the folder. The same child who WON’T LET ME GET RID OF TODDLER BOOKS because it is his “favorite one” and he’ll “miss it so much!” I mean, asking him to read a book instead of playing a video game? You’d think I was asking him to get a spoon out of the drawer. No, make that a DIRTY SPOON from the dishwasher, and gouge his eyes out with the dirty spoon while balancing on one foot and reciting the Gettysburg address.
If there was an Olympic Book Reading Event, Bug Boy could medal. Easy. In fact, as long as the East Germans aren’t there (or the Chinese, as it may be the case this year) he could get the gold medal. The kid soaks up books like a sponge. He had an argument with a kid in his class yesterday because he was all, “I read that book!” And the kid was a second-grader and was all, “No way! That’s a chapter book!” And Bug Boy was all, “Dood. I’ve read Captain Underpants and Star Wars BY MYSELF!” And the kid was all, “Liar!” And then Bug Boy did what all seven-year-olds do when they get upset at school. He threw himself on the ground and screamed bloody murder and claimed the kid was teasing him on purpose. What? They don’t usually do that at seven? What evs.
What he doesn’t realize is that by telling me that I am the worst Mommy ever he is hurting my feelings. Not really, but I don’t let him know that. His little insult doesn’t hurt me or phase me in the least, because I know I’m actually the best mom on the planet( Don’t argue with me, I know it is true. You are just jealous.) . I’m the best mom at everything. Except for getting my kids toilet trained. Apparently, that is the Worst Dad in the World’s job (because he said no to Wii, too) because Bugaboo will not allow me to go with him when he has a bowel movement. And if I poke my head into the bathroom he screams, “UH UH!” and pushes me out. Only Daddy is allowed. So the next time when Darling complains that Bugaboo doesn’t like him, I’ll remind him that it takes a special parent to make your child relax enough to poo, and I’m not it.