"Shit."
In four letters I was outed at our playgroup, betrayed by Goldilocks: I was a terrible mother.
Not quite five years old she obviously had learned it "somewhere." Everyone knew somewhere was probably home, and because I spent the most time with her, it was only natural to draw a line connecting her transgression to me.
Clover eyes bloomed fear and regret, impossible green pools magnified by the wall of tears she refused to let fall. As soon as that syllable slipped from her heart and escaped her lips, she knew it was a mistake.
"Shit."
It hung there–just hung there–a thousand echoes reverberating against canyons of judgment and condemnation, my own projected as theirs. I know how moms presume and assume, how we judge others' parenting choices. On our best days we extend grace but too often we scribble mental notes that make us feel better about ourselves.
Icy hush, we were deer in headlights. No one moved for seconds or forever–is there any difference when you're horrified and humiliated and exposed as a miserable excuse for a parent?
My beautiful, curly-topped daughter was a snapshot of me had I been standing in her Stride Rites
She didn't just look like me, she sounded like me, perfectly delivering her one-word proclamation with the maturity of a grown up. Or foul-mouthed teenager.
Back then we treated soft drinks as a controlled substance. An entire can was reserved for only the most special of occasions; in this case, a picnic at the park with friends. Church friends. Friends who weren't yet close enough to me to know that sometimes my language was colorful and salty and locker room worthy.
She sounded just like me when a jar of molasses fell from the top of the pantry and splattered everything on its way down, sticky glue you can never really clean completely.
Like that.
She looked from the ground to my face, calculating my reaction. All I could stammer was a disappointed "RAY-chul!" because to ask "WHERE IN THE WORLD DID YOU HEAR THAT?" would have begged the truth, and goodness knows I already knew the answer.
The silence was broken by nervous laughter and quick change of subject by some kind soul, and the moment moved into memory. I could still hear my heart beating in my ears but I swear those other moms were sympathizing, not judging me, acutely aware their own children could just as easily let out their skeletons in front of God and everybody.
Later that day Rachel offered me peace, a picture she colored of a kitten playing with a ball of yarn. She carefully lettered her name across the bottom to make sure I knew how hard she worked on it.
Had she dated it, we would have a record of the first time she cussed out loud.
We'd also have a record of the last time she did.
She graduates high school in 10 days.
I could easily by the mom in the story and my son Jack, the child.
Oh you sweet mama. This is why I love you–you are so real, vulnerable, transparent. I probably would have died a thousand deaths and never hung out with those women again. But you just held your head high. And then you wrote about it. Awesome!
It is amazing what kids hear. I had to smile reading this more because it brought back MY first major awakening of how much our kiddos listen. We were driving up the road and a guy had been messing with us for a couple of miles and cut me off. I didn’t utter a “swear word”, knowing that the three little ones were in the back seat, but I did rather loudly declare that he was a “butt head”.
It was about five miles later that my youngest, Samantha, started talking from her car seat in the back….repeating over and over and over and…well, you get the idea… buuhead buuhead buuhead. As Leisa gave me “the look” I was trying to not smile, but Sam was so darn cute. We had talked about how many other things while driving to grandmas that day, but what did she remember? Of course…
All that to say, I will smile and empathize with you my friend!
Blessings
D
Robin, I am actually a little nervous for my own son. Robin, I LOVED this post. Not that we say such things a lot, but sweetie and I banter quite a bit back and forth, him a musician and me having been raised in a bar with shrimpers and pirates. We’re human, and that language is part of our culture. I can still remember the first time I said the H word in front of my mom. I was in 8th grade and she feigned shock. She knew exactly where I learned it from. One of my younger nephews was saying the F word by the time he was 3. Again, we all knew where he learned it. With TV making such words mainstream, it will be harder and harder to curb younger ones using them. All we can do is try to be more aware and instill in our youngsters that adult language is not acceptable at their age.
Dawn, I have a feeling we could be joined by a few others ;).
Shelly, Are you kidding? I DID die a thousand deaths!! And…it took me 14 years to write :).
This one has been on the back burner for a long, long while…suddenly I’m inspired. Go figure…
I like that last part: “We’d also have a record of the last time she did.” That says a lot. Congratulations on the graduation! It’s a bittersweet time but as some wise person told me, “It’s only the beginning!”
Derek, It was long ago and far away, and all too fun to write NOW. But at the time? Yeah…YOU know what I was feelin’!
Lisa, Pirates and shrimpers? Color me impressed!! I can remember my dad literally saying “Do as I say do, not as I do” and I always had a problem with that, even if he was halfway kidding. I truly believe the best way to teach ’em is by example…but that doesn’t mean I’ve gotten it right all the time.
Unfortunately :).
Junebug!!! I’m so glad you drew attention to that next to the last line. It’s crucial to the telling of this story imo. We ARE thrilled for this time in Rachel’s life…but there’s definitely the taste of bitter among the sweet.
I wasn’t one to throw out “cuss” words just their pseudonyms like the word “crap.” But once I was mad and said “shit” and my daughter cried. It really hurt me to have made her cry. She always thought the “F” word was “fart.” Now that she’s grown up I’ve occasionally heard her say she’s “pissed off” about something and that really surprises me. I grew up around multiple cursing and never really tried it.
This part gave me a big ole lump in my throat.
“I could still hear my heart beating in my ears but I swear those other moms were sympathizing, not judging me, acutely aware their own children could just as easily let out their skeletons in front of God and everybody.” Yep. And congrats to your daughter on her upcoming graduation!
Bought sweet Rachel Hannah’s graduation present today. How did that happen? I still have the present you gave me when I graduated from HS. Do you remember what is was??? Erin is now enjoying it! As always, I love the stories you weave and spin.
LOVE this! So well told, and the ending made tears spring to my eyes. You’re a good mommy. Congratulations to you and your not-so-little-anymore mirror image.
xoxo,
Jeanne
Congratulations to you and your sweet girl!
I’m laughing so hard right now! My two year old is talking very well right now and that word slipped out not that long ago. I know that it was in trying to say ship, but…
Unfortunately, that is my word of choice when something has to fly out of my mouth.
Thanks for being so transparent with us! I have friends who profess to never say anything close to a cuss word, so I’ve always been worried that maybe I’m not as good of a Christian as they are. 😉 Thankfully, my hubby thinks it’s cute when it comes out of my mouth.
Love it. I can just see you wanting to slither under the picnic table. Jonah’s been experimenting with rhyming lately and we’ve had to correct several words that he’s thought sounded interesting. the teacher in me is glad that he’s rhyming so well, though 🙂
Rebecca,at about 4, said “dan” one day while trying to fasten her seatbelt. I said, “What did you just say?” She said, “dan”. And then I just said, “We don’t say, ‘dan’…ok?”
http://alisalamb.blogspot.com/2011/04/cp.html
I am thankful for the enjoyment of your words each day. Thanks for sharing.
Aw, don’t feel too bad. My two year old girl has been running around saying “p*n*s” for the last few days. I don’t know how to make her stop. Her brothers did this. Ugh.
Uh, could have been us.
Congrats to your daughter! And to you Mama. Enjoy this time with her. It only comes once. (Remember, I’ve been there with my only girl, and she’ll be graduating from college next year. Ouch!)
I’m stopping by for the first time and thought this was great! This is a testament to so many things, but for me with four kiddos age seven and under, it’s all about don’t sweat the small stuff. They are going to be just fine. We, as moms, can lighten up a bit. I love that it was her first and last time.
Oh my…I just wanted to throw up for you!!!! What a moment! I’m sure you were correct, and the other mothers were sympathizing with you – they were probably glad that your child said it first! 😉
we were in the car the other day and as I was singing along with “God is great, beer is good…and people are crazy” I heard my 4 year old start to chime in and sing with me…was a great reminder to me of how much they do listen and absorb…and that it was time to start paying much more attention to what I listen to in the car. great story!
Oh man…I’ve been here before. It is convicting and humbling all at once!
Congrats on your girl’s graduation! You are a fantastic Mama, Robin. Truly marvelous!