(Referring to STERoids, not HEMORRhoids…in case you were afraid to continue reading! This was just going to be a simple haiku, but it kept growing and growing, like it was on steroids and into an actual post.)
Without further adieu, may I present…
With all the costumes
I’m surprised he’s so pleasant…
You best step off, bitch
I fear I’ve thrown my son under the bus.
Carson is a shy boy. He often protests loudly when we go to story time at the library, refusing to say hello to anyone, crying when asked to sing the songs. Trying to diffuse these somewhat embarrassing situations, I try to crack jokes with the other moms about how “fun” having a toddler is. I’ve told everyone who will listen that his name should be Mary, Mary Quite Contrary. More than once I’ve commented that I don’t know why he acts the way he does and that his behavior annoys me.
I think these admissions to women I don’t know, has somehow made them feel that they have permission to comment on his behavior, too.
But they don’t.
They don’t have the right to say, “gee, he’s finally acting pleasant today.” Those words sting as much as a slap across the face.
They don’t have the right to say, “he’s not in Mom’s Day Out or preschool?,” in an accusatory tone. When and if I send my child to MDO is up to Tate and I, not some stranger I see once per week for 45 minutes.
I feel so badly that I’ve ever said anything less than complimentary about my son. The mama bear in me wishes I would have had a great comeback for these unintentionally hurtful remarks. It pains me to know that these other moms have only one view of my son, as a difficult child who is often whiny and unhappy. They don’t know the child who laughs and sings and makes my heart nearly burst with pride. They don’t know this because I’ve only complained about him.
That’s my boy. My Carson, lover of Thomas the Train, his Daddy, his baby sister, Ella. This boy who is sweet, kind, and sensitive. MY boy. Those other mommy’s best step off. This mama bear roars.
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