If you didn’t have thick skin before you had kids, you will certainly develop it afterwards. From the moment a child is conceived, he/she changes your life. From morning sickness to stretch marks to, hair loss to weight gain, nothing ever is really the same – and that’s just in the first two years of your little angel’s life. I have found that once your child develops the ability to express him/herself, they begin to look less cherub-like, and the honesty in their discourse is almost ‘demonic’.
There’s a reason the old adage “children are to be seen and not heard” was coined. At first, I thought ancient parents created the phrase because of the decibel level with which most kids seem to employ when they open their mouths. I am now a firm believer that this phrase was coined not because of the volume that Junior speaks with, but rather the substance that is issued from Junior’s mouth. How can someone so young, with so little exposure to the world, inflict so much damage to an adult’s self-esteem? Are their infantile utterances proof that at our core, human beings are all inherently evil? They say the truth hurts, and my children are in the business of hurting me every day.
Just yesterday I was in the toilet, doing what one does in the toilet: taking a dump. I woke up early so that no one would bother me, since my children have a propensity for serving as my audience whenever I’m in the middle of doing something private (like taking a dump). I relished in the silence and solitude of the predawn peace in our house. It didn’t last long. As if sensing a shift in my body heat and mass from the other room, Nadjah got up as well. She knocked on the door…and the only reason she knocked is because I had the foresight to lock the door.
“Mommy? Can you pass me my Hello Kitty toothbrush and some toilet paper please?”
I sighed and paused in mid push. I hoped that if I was quiet long enough, she’d eventually go away. Of course, she didn’t. She knocked again.
I clenched my butt cheeks together, lifted myself onto my toes and pulled the toilet paper down from the top shelf. After I had both her requested items in hand, I cracked the door and handed them to her.
“Thanks Mo—Oh my GOSH! Mommy, you stink!”
Of course I stink, you foolish girl! This is a toilet, not a rose garden!
“Whatever,” I muttered, and went back to my log laying.
That same evening, I again made the attempt to have some private time. I brought my laptop into bed with me and began looking for What Not To Wear videos. It’s one of the few guilty pleasures I allow myself, since the TV is perpetually on NickJr. This time, I failed to lock the bedroom door and Aya bounded into my room soon after, smiling because she had me all to herself for the moment. DRAT!
She flopped into bed with me, face first into my lap. Her cute little face immediately crinkled up.
“Mommy, did you take a bath today?” she asked in obvious disgust.
“Of course I did!” I retorted.
“Oh. You stink, Mommy,” she informed me matter-of-factly.
You little fool. You came into MY room while I was minding MY business and put your face into MY lap while I was on MY period! Of COURSE it stinks!
I glowered at her and then decided to ignore her. A woman with a more sensitive disposition may have been broken by all this verbal abuse, but I am strong! I am an iceberg! I will not be so easily broken!
I’m an iceberg…
I’m an iceberg…
*Crying* I’m an iceberg!!