Mother’s Day Performance Review

Sometimes you are so busy in the month of May that the words don’t flow so you have to search for a little inspiration. Sometimes you have to turn that inspiration on its ear. Sometimes the whole exercise gets you more for Mother’s Day than you bargained for . . .

Mother's Day Performance Review

Erin: While tooling around the internet a while ago I came across this prompt: “Ten things I really like about myself.” I thought we should do it. It would be a positive and upbeat sort of blog post.

Ellen: Yeah, I’m all for Girl Power but I wasn’t quite so positive. I said, “I’m tired of talking about us.”

Erin: That is a weird attitude to have as a blogger, right?

Ellen: So I suggested, “Why don’t we ask our KIDS what they think is good about us?”

Erin: And I said, “You go first.”

Ellen: So that night as we were winding down and getting ready for bed, I asked my daughters, then thirteen and eleven years old, “What do you like about me?”

The calm evaporated and they charged up like someone had just changed their batteries. Apparently asking adolescents for their opinions about their parental unit can set off a three ring circus.

Erin: People like to give opinions, who knew?

Ellen: I pointed to my youngest, “You go first.”

She replied, “You buy us Cheez-its three boxes at a time.”

I sighed heavily. This was not going to be the “Hallmark Tribute to Mom” I was looking for. But I’m no quitter. I tried again. “But what do you like about ME, beyond what I buy for you? You know, the inner me?”

Without missing a beat, she said, “You have intestines.”

Erin: You have to admire her comedic timing. Badum-CHING.

Ellen: But my girl has a heart of gold so she threw me a real bone, “Your fashion sense isn’t embarrassing.”

Erin: It may sound like a backhanded compliment, but coming from an adolescent girl, that right there is like an Academy Award, a Nobel Prize, and an Olympic Gold all rolled into one.

Ellen: She went on to say, “You do doctor stuff like healing my wounds.”

I thought, “THIS is more like it.”

She proceeded, “You make great Tater Tot Casserole and you stay fit.”

I decided not to comment that these two things don’t even belong in the same sentence. I’m glad I kept my mouth shut because here’s what came next: “I like that you made me.”

I’d be lying if I said my heart didn’t swell, BUT I also saw this as a perfect time to quit while I was ahead with her, so I turned to her sister, “You’re up.”

She left the gate galloping: “You’re able to persevere through anything.”

I was ready to leave it at that, but she thought for a moment and added, “You don’t get all uncomfortably up in my life. You’re also very creative with your blog.”

Erin: Okay, that sounded a little more teen-like, but extra points for the blog compliment.

Ellen: And she still wasn’t done. She further amazed me when she completely shed her cloak of teen self-absorption and asked me, “But what do you like about yourself, Mom?”

Well, well. I guess I was going to answer Erin’s prompt after all. So I said, “I like that I can pretty much do anything I put my mind to.”

And my oldest replied immediately, “Yeah, I can see that.” Her sister’s head bobbed in agreement.

Once again, wow. Validation was mine, reflected back to me by my daughters’ words. I thought, “This was a GREAT exercise!”

Erin: And after Ellen told me this story, I thought, “I want this in my life, I need this in my life.” Plus I have five kids who at the time ranged in ages from four to fourteen years old. I had a larger pool to draw from. My answers were going to be even better.

Let’s just say my first thought after my crew reported what they like about me was I understand why some animals eat their young.

To be fair, we were all sardined into the minivan on a multi-state, endless car trip when I turned off the DVD player and yelled over the ensuing din of protests, “So what do you think is great about me?”

Erin's family can pack a car.

Erin’s family can fill a minivan. To the brim. We really should start a collection to get them a Patridge Family bus.

Erin: It became deathly quiet. As in they were either heeding the age old advice “If you don’t have anything nice to say don’t say anything at all” OR they were finally overcome by the smell of feet and stanky sports equipment.

You could hear crickets chirping.

Then, from the deep back bench, my oldest son, the one I labored with for twenty-seven hours with no drugs and gave me a grade four tear, said, “Well, you make great chocolate chip cookies.”

Ellen: He was fourteen after all. All boys think about is food.

Erin: I will never wear a two piece again because of that child and that’s all he’s got?

I started to say something, when Son Number Two piped up, “You’re a great baker. You make great chocolate chip cookies.”

I thought, “Okay, slacker, your brother just said that.” Such a middle child. The Brady Bunch Jan Syndrome is real, people.

Then my still sweet as pie eight year old boy chimed in with “Hmm, let me think . . . you make great chocolate chip cookies.”

Really, boys? Where’s the love?

Now, I know the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach and my cookies ARE damn fine, but where was my “Love Song to Mom”? Where was my “Ode to the Woman Who Gave Me Life”? Why did Ellen get unicorns and rainbows and I was left choking on stale cookie crumbs?

So I decided to be a little more instructive. I offered them some examples, sharing what Ellen’s girls had said.

NOW the girl child, who had just turned thirteen, was right with me. She was on board. “You’re a creative writer, a good friend to everyone, you stay fit, and have a good fashion sense. Oh, and you make really good chocolate chip cookies.”

Ellen: Hmmmmmm, that all sounds very familiar.

Erin: Note to self: Explain to her some of the finer points of plagiarism.

But there was still hope! My sweet baby boy had not answered yet. The one who considered me the most beautiful woman alive and still thought the world revolved around me could surely deliver the gem I was hoping for. And then this:

You are really good at yelling at Daddy.”

Well isn’t that the piece de resistance? I feel like I need a disclaimer here: WE WERE ON A CAR TRIP! I was driving.

Ellen: Why did you ask on a car trip?? A miserably long car trip? Timing is everything and yours was pitiful.

Erin: But seriously? Are you kidding me?? The whole carload of them thought they were a total hoot and raucous laughter ensued.

Ellen: They were pretty funny.

Erin: So to summarize, Ellen’s kids will be picking her tiara up from the jewelers any day now and MY kids want me in their own little sweatshop churning out the baked goods.

Ahhh, sweet motherhood.

Ahhh, sweet motherhood.

Ellen: There are no report cards, Mother’s Day performance reviews, or gold stars for parenthood, but you can always ask your kids how you’re doing.

Erin: We dare you!

 

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3 thoughts on “Mother’s Day Performance Review

  1. Jessica

    Oh I love this and I’m just going to hold my breath that one of my younger kids grow up to give me a heartwarming compliment or two because I’m getting zero pats on the back from my teenager. Also I’m totally hungry for tator tots now.
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  2. Pingback: Fourth Time Is A Charm: Should You Have a Fourth Child? - Sisterhood of the Sensible Moms | Sisterhood of the Sensible Moms

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