Bad Mommy Moments

After the wall coloring incident of September '09 and my child's monstrous behavior at playgroup, I have been contemplating some of my finer parenting moments since his arrival four years ago. While I don't generally wax poetic about being the perfect parent, I've realized that there are so many bad mommy moments to choose from. Some favorites:

• The time he split the back of his head wide open at the hotel while we were across the friggin' country and the first thing I did was to start laughing and say, amidst the bloodshed, "You have got to be fucking kidding me. I don't need this right now, I just want to go to bed!" (We ended up in an ambulance and at the ER that night. He still has a fat scar from his staples.) To my credit, there was a lot going on in our life at the time but still, this isn't one of my fonder all-about-me moments.
• The time he ran crying to me at his first soccer game and I told him to leave me alone and "man up". In retrospect, I'm not so sure a four year old understands how to "man up" really. No wonder why he hates soccer. And oh, the look of horror on all those other soccer mom's faces while they were hugging and consoling their boys oh so gently...
• The fact that he goes around reciting commercials (Oxy Clean gets out all your tough stains, This was my first Rectal Thermometer, the best lotion for your Rough Dry Hands, Ice cream and cake, gimme ice cream and cake are all favorites) and asks for infomercial things for birthday and Christmas gifts (Aqua Globes anyone?) is a true testament to him watching way too much television and being babysat by it at times. Goooooooooo me! But, hey, I gotta get dinner on the table, don't I? And breakfast. And lunch. Oh, and don't forget snacks.
• The time he was having a fit at his friend's house and thought it would be a good idea to slap me and I slapped him right back across his face in front of God and everybody. (Don't jump up and call CPS, please. My mom smacked me around many a time, and I turned out okay.) Such a gut reaction, I totally felt bad. Especially bad about the red mark on his cheek. It went away in time for him to go to preschool the next day though. Hey, it was a cop who once told me just to make sure you don't leave any permanent marks. I kid, I kid. (Note: I'm not kidding about the cop telling me this, but I definitely don't just go around beating up the child.)
• The time he tripped at a birthday party and blurted out "Oh shit!" I can't remember if this was age 2 or 3 but it really doesn't matter, he learned that straight from his Mama. As pointed out by a friend, this could also double as a proud parent moment because he did use it appropriately and in the right context. I suppose the fact that he thinks 'damn it' is an acceptable phrase is also part of my great parenting skill set. For the record, my Hubby uses more foul language in front of him than I do. Although I cuss like a sailor (but apparently not as much as Mom of Twenty Kids) I am pretty good about watching my mouth around him. (I just wanted to throw that out there, even though I know my mom totally does not believe this at all. That Hubby o' mine walks on water, I tell ya. Whatever.)
• The many drafts of Ebay and Craigslist ads saved on my hard drive. Advertising a child for sale, of course.

I think I better stop now before I'm offered the first CPS reality show deal or Grandma shows up on my doorstep to whisk her favorite grandchild off and save him from a life with me.