Alien Idiot

I absolutely believe that the instant the baby is born, not only do we mothers cease to speak the English language, but our intelligence is completely depleted. Just ask my kids and you’ll see. It doesn’t matter what I say, or how I say it, I get an argument and basically, but not in the exact words, told that I’m an idiot. It also doesn’t matter what the topic is; I’m wrong about EVERYTHING.

I told Dolly not to take her cup outside because she’d end up leaving it there. “No I won’t Mom. I’ll bring it back. DUH [You’re an idiot, Mom.]!” I found it near a tree by the street. I don’t recall living in, under, or even close to that tree, but that’s where I found the cup. Zach asked if he could borrow my hammer and my wrench to help a friend fix his go-cart. “I would prefer not, Zach. Every time something leaves this house, it fails to return in the same condition.” (Or, at least, without some drama.) “But, please? I promise I won’t lose them. [You’re just an idiot, Mom.]” The argument, albeit short, continued until I told him, in no uncertain terms, that he was responsible for the tools should they become lost or damaged. He agreed and just a few minutes later he returned to our house sobbing because he couldn’t find the wrench. Poor baby. Did I feel sorry for him? Um, no. I did follow him to the location where the kids were using the tools to find out where it was and another friend had it. Okay, fine.

However, just a short while later all the kids disappeared from the location and I went tool hunting because Zach had the hammer but the wrench was again missing. DRAMA!! I couldn’t locate it either but since I’d seen the last children who’d had possession of it I set out to find them. The boy said the wrench was in the grass where he’d left it but, because I hadn’t been able to locate it either, I told him he needed to show Zach where it was. He agreed but didn’t move too quickly. Zach, panicking because he knew he’d have to work off the cost somehow, was yelling at his friend to help him find my wrench when the boy’s mother came outside and made her son assist since he was the last person to have the tool. She understood the problem since her son had borrowed her toolbox and had lost four of her tools.

This happens on, almost, a daily basis. I tell them I’d prefer they not do this because that will happen and it’s insinuated that I don’t know what I’m talking about, even though a very similar conversation took place the day before, and the day before that, and the day before that. What gives? I’m thinking it has to do with the language barrier. Remember I said that we cease to speak the English language. I’m not sure which language I speak but, whichever it is, I’m willing to take a course in it as a second language. I’ve got to do something. I talk and my kids stare at me like I’ve got three heads. Maybe I just started speaking Alien when they were born.

Child: “What? What is it that you’re trying to convey to me, you Alien idiot?”
Mom: “Splur plibble flut blug-blug, nart hartle blaps.”
Child: "Yea, whatever. Whatever it is you're trying to say, I'll prove you wrong; just watch me."

Other mothers would understand that I'd said, “Stop jumping on the stairs, you’ll crack your head.” My kids, however, don’t get it. Then, when they do crack their head, they look to me, the Alien idiot, for comfort. Do I feel bad? Nope. I don’t like to see them hurting and I will tend to the injury, but my compassion level isn’t really where it should be at that point. I’m not the type of person to say “I told ya so,” and I don’t. Instead we just go over the lesson learned.

Mom: “Wow, what happened?”
Child: “I hit my head.”
Mom: “Why did you hit your head?”
Child: “Because I was jumping on the stairs.”
Mom: “I’m sorry you hurt your head. Maybe you shouldn’t jump on the stairs anymore.”
Child: “Why, you Alien idiot? It’s not like it’s going to happen again!!”

Nah, of course it won’t. {BAM!!!} WAH!!! MOMMY!!

We’ve been through almost every situation and every topic that young children encounter and I’m always the unknowing-moron talking out my left ear. “Don’t take your books outside or you’ll lose them.” “Don’t take your snack outside or your friends will eat it and you’ll have none left.” “Don’t go outside in just your socks or they’ll get ruined and I’ll have to throw them away.” All of these warnings, and many others, however, go unheeded because I’m speaking in Alien tongue rather than English. Something’s gotta give. Some sort of translator needs to be invented so that, when parents speak, children will understand what is being said. Maybe then we moms will cease to be idiots and can just be moms who dole out warnings because we love our children. It’s something that should be appreciated now rather than later.

Later it’s too late to say, “I told ya so.” Unless, of course, we’re watching our children dole out those same warnings to their children. At that point, we can simple sit back, relax, and smile. I haven’t reached that stage yet, and I’ve got a long way to go, but it’s a stage I’m looking forward to reaching. I can’t wait to sit at my son’s kitchen table while he tells his toddler not to continue opening and closing the closet door because the toddler’s finger will get smashed. My son’s reaction when the toddler’s finger does get smashed will have to be captured on camera; and my knowing smirk will tell all without needing to actually say those Alien words, “Mya pleg yint ja.” (“I told ya so.”)

Until next time…peace to all.