Being the maaahvelous parent I am (take it from me, because my kids will lie), I absorb all the literature I can get my hands on which have anything to do with parental improvement. Recently, I read that going on individual “dates” once a month with each of your kids will increase your intimate parent/child bond.
This sounded like a great idea, regardless of the sleep deprived stupor I was in while reading this sage advice (brought about by squirting an empty Windex bottle of imaginary “Monsters-Be-Gone” spray under The Toddler’s bed until 4:00 a.m.). I decided, like any maaaahvelous mother would, to give it a go.
The Toddler chose the zoo for her Dream Date With Mom. I love animals, and was almost as excited as she as we headed down the highway on our date. However, in all my giddiness, I temporarily forgot that toddlers could care less about the educational aspects of zoology and would rather comment – loudly – about the size, texture, and aroma of each creature’s excrement with exclamations such as “Wow, Mommy, look at the huge elephant poopy! It’s smellier than your bathroom after Daddy goes in there to read!”
Because their world is so small, consisting of only a handful of family and friends, toddlers will inform perfect strangers about the intimate details of their family members. They do this simply by visually observing their new surroundings, and then orally relating what they see to what is familiar to them, like “Hey, that camel’s got buck teeth like Auntie Edna’s!” “Eww! That cage smells like Grandpa’s socks!” “That hippo’s as fat as Cousin Jethro was before he went to jail” or “That mama gorilla is picking lice out of that little gorilla’s hair just like you do to us, Mommy!”
Toddlers also have an amazing gift for thinking out loud, regardless of who is within earshot. No thoughts, such as “Look! That monkey’s butt is red!” “Is that ‘ellyfunt’ ever gonna stop peeing?” or “Hey, that ‘rang-a-tang’ has boobies!” are too sacred to withhold from an adoring crowd.
After spending an afternoon red-faced and exhausted from hastily ushering The Toddler away from numerous giggling audiences, I still felt the pride of accomplishment from a successful date with my child – until the magical moment was interrupted by The Toddler throwing up her fourth “Sloth Slurpie” in the back seat of the car on the drive home.
Pigpen decided he wanted to do something adventurous on his first Dream Date With Mom, and chose to go indoor rock climbing. Not wanting to appear wimpy or elderly, I agreed, even though the butterflies in my stomach were poised to whisk me away to a safer, more dignified place.
Stan The Man, hard bodied owner of Rock Your World Climbing Expeditions, got “up close and personal” with me as he adjusted my crotch harness. After peeling my scared stiff body from his and powdering my sweaty palms, Stan encouraged me with a flirty wink to lose my fear of heights (and death) and trust that he wouldn’t allow me to fall.
My son, already having scaled the monster rock, waved at me enthusiastically from atop the wall. He could not have understood that his mother preferred not to die by dangling like a twisted puppet from its tangled strings. I wanted to demonstrate courage in the face of fear and so I stepped gingerly onto the wall of death. All the while, I prayed that Hubs would find the shoebox full of insurance information should Pigpen have to walk home alone after our date.
To make a long story short, I finally made it to the top of the wall, high-five’ed my son, and taught him a lesson about gravity as I promptly threw up (or should that be “threw down”?) the backside of the wall. On the ride home, I feared Pigpen was ashamed of his mother’s “weenieness” and apologized for ruining his fun. “Are you kidding, Mom?” he exclaimed. “You did great! Mrs. Floozie, Kevin’s mom, wouldn’t even let go of Stan. He had to hug her all night…probably because she was so afraid! I can’t wait to tell my friends that my mom barfed down Mt. Killaman!” Nice to know I am now the heroine of the 6th grade and still have my intact morals to boot…unlike Kevin’s mom.
Teen Girl was the last to have her date with Mom, and opted for a leisurely stroll through the mall. Until our date, I had avoided shopping with my teenager. I figured this sacrifice would make her happy, as teens rarely enjoy being taunted by school chums from being seen alongside of their parents in a public place. When she chose to allow me the honor of appearing with her in her domain, I was thrilled.
I should have known it was too good to be true. When Teen Girl spied a pal nearing our direction, she created a diversion by pushing me into the orthopedic shoe display at the Naturalizer store so she could chat alone with her friend. Okay, I could’ve lived with that, but did she have to tell all the clothing store clerks that shopping with me was simply research for a school writing assignment about gerontology?
My presence wasn’t entirely unappreciated, though. I did come to Teen Girl’s rescue when she was $10 short of purchasing “the coolest pair of hip hugger jeans I ever saw!” And she was proud of me for not punching the lights out of the boy who ogled her as he passed us, whispering “Hey, baby! Looking good!” so our date wasn’t a total wash.
From these special occasions, I have learned something intimate about each one of my three offspring. And they in turn have learned that Mom isn’t such a “fuddy duddy” after all. It’s cost me over $200, my inhibitions, my dignity, and nearly my life, but it’s been a small price to pay for bonding. Besides the comfy old lady shoes from the mall, I now possess a sentimental souvenir of these parent/child experiences that money can’t buy – their friendship.