Top 10 Parenting Phrases That Have Come Out of My Mouth

No somersaults in the bathtub.
…because the dog is human, too.
Treat your sister like you would your bike!
Take the golf club out of the toilet.
Take your foot out of your mouth.
Stop putting spells on the gate.
The dog DOES NOT need hair gel.
"Clean" does not mean rinse it in the toilet.
…because your brother’s arm is not a pretzel.
That army guy screams every time I step on him.

And what list would be complete if I didn’t say:
….because I said so!

The craziness is not only that I have uttered those words, it's also in the fact that they made perfect sense to the people that I was uttering them to.

So…what do you do?

At every party, it inevitably comes up…the dreaded question gets asked. Oh and how I hate that question. The answer does no justice to the all encompassing work and energy, thought or time I put into it. Everyone thinks they know about my job but only those that actually do my job really know my job. For the rest of them, they like to pretend they know, but they haven't a clue!

After I answer the question, never have I heard “Oh, what does that entail?” or “Wow, that sounds interesting!” The response usually goes something like: “Now that’s a full time job.” This response is automatic; it does not imply respect for, understanding of, or sympathy for my job. It’s just the polite thing people say. The tone implies that my job is, well, really not a job. It is beneath a job because after all, it’s just so common.

After I reply “I am a mother” to describe my job, my career, my life-long commitment, there is silence. The awkward kind. The person I was speaking to now looks around and then down at his or her glass and then comes upon an escape plan: “Well, I think I’ll get another drink,” or “Do you happen to know where the bathroom is?” or something like that. Either way, the conversation has ended and I am left feeling like I don’t really count, that my job, although done 24/7, is not as useful or honoring as any other job. And I feel slightly flattened.

Gone are those days. I am tired of people telling me that they kind of “get” my job “cause they have a dog.” So next time you see me at a party, unless you don’t want to hear it, don’t ask me what I do for a living because this is what I will tell you:

“I am a developer of souls, and a steward of good citizen adult-making. I am in charge of character building and life-skills education. I am also the go-to person for the bored, hungry and disgruntled. I am a secret-agent who possess exceptional secret-keeping skills. I am a magician who is capable of making lost, discarded missing objects appear out of thin air. I am dolor of cash and medicine. Occasionally, I am a tyrant, going against the masses, and ordering that toys, clothes and dishes are put away, and refusing to feed the unruly population fast food. I sometimes serve, briefly, as a punching bag. My daily duties often include spiritual advisor, referee and peace-maker. My negotiation skills rival those used in the Middle East. I am an exterminator who specializes in monsters and ghosts. I am bug and lizard-saver, and occasionally bug-killer. At least weekly my duties include crossing guard, nutritionist and therapist. I am an actor, unfortunately type-cast, into roles where I am expressing surprise and joy at nonsensical sayings. Even though I don’t have a degree in art, I am able to interpret great scribbles and marvel at the colors, texture and illegible handwriting. I serve as bookkeeper, coach, housecleaner and fight-breaker-upper. I ensure we stay within budget and serve as the financial consultant, diaper changer, and dog walker.

However, in general, the job is not always perfect. Most of the time, while including all of the above duties, I am a time-balancing’, ignorin’ de ‘funk,’ strugglin’ woman, who is just trying to find space for myself between the worries, the second guesses, and the angst.”

So what do you do?

If You Give A Mother A Dirty Toilet

There I was, again, using the short cut, through the half bath in between the laundry room and my office. I jumped onto the computer to place an Annie Lamott book on hold at the library then turned to head back outside to work on my writing, again through the shortcut past…my dirty toilet.

Each time I pass through the bathroom, I glance at that dirty toilet and fight the urge to clean it. Back outside, then back inside again, always passing that toilet. Cleaning that toilet gets harder and harder to resist. It’s not that dirty, just a slight dark ring beginning to form around the water line and few spots in the bowl. However, it's dirty enough to bug me. And…I know, as sure as I know that my kids will piss me off again, that if I clean the toilet, it will lead to misery.

If I clean the toilet, then the bathroom sink looks dirty. So in my typical “it’ll only take a second” mind set, I will clean the sink. Then the floor will look yucky, so I will clean the floor, including scrubbing those more stubborn (been on the floor for several weeks) stains. It’s a small bathroom, so when I’m done I will notice the dried splashes of urine on the wall (I live with three penis bearing fellows). So then I will wipe down the walls.

The immense satisfaction that comes from having a clean bathroom will spur me on into the laundry room, where I will move the dryer in order to reach the three ‘runaway’ socks. Seeing all the dust will prompt a full vacuuming behind the dryer and a good floor and wall scrub in the room. The laundry room will be sparkly and make the kitchen look absolutely filthy. In the kitchen, I will go as far as to wipe the crud on the far side of the dishwasher door that no one sees, and scrape “that’ stuff off the floor underneath the overhang of the kitchen cabinets. Even though it’s fall, I will start planning the cleaning that will take place in the kids room. Too small clothes removed, dust bunnies (why do they call dust clumps that?) from behind dressers captured and all socks matched and put in order in underwear draws. I will then move onto the family room, where I will wonder if I have the time to design, buy fabric and sew those curtains I keep meaning to do.

It will not be until I am halfway finished with the family room, most likely when the couch is flipped upside down so I can really vacuum the underside of it, that I will run out of steam as well as any desire for a clean house. I will succumb to feelings of failure. Failure, because I just can’t seem to keep the house clean. That means, according to this imaginary 2005 Mother Rule Book that many of us follow, that I am not a good mother. The guilt will set in and I will think to myself, “If I could just stay on top of it, it would never get to this.” This will lead to more guilt of not being good enough, or organized enough to stay on top of it. Then I will switch to not contributing enough to our income to be able to afford a cleaning person, which of course, leads to the guilt of having so much already and not appreciating it. So I will try to figure out a way to get my kids to keep the house clean. Like maybe making sure that they empty shoes, cuffed pants, pockets, and shake their hair free of all sand, dust and other outside dirtying particles before entering the house. If I could just do that...and then I will know that this is ‘idiot neurotic talk’ because even if I could, it won’t solve the dust bunny issue.

The kicker will be that none of this really matters. If I just focus on me, on my dream, I could have the house keeper. And that last part will get me and I will resolve to focus. Then I will realize all the focusing will have to wait till tomorrow because I just cleaned and guilted myself out of my time and now I have to go pick up the kids.

Today however, I DID NOT GO THERE! Today was a triumph because I, Kim Hamer walked past that dirty toilet ALL day and didn’t stop. I didn’t even break my stride. Now I sit here, focusing my attention on my writing, on telling my story and removing this suffocating mask of motherhood and its unrealistic images. I changed a habit and a thought pattern. I truly believe that those toilets don’t reflect who I am. I believe in it so much that today, I broadcast to whomever reads this, “I have dirty toilets in my house and I don’t care!”

I hope I will hear applause.

The Appropriate Pause

You catch your three year old with a handful of M&Ms he is not supposed to have. You ask him what he has in his hand, with the appropriate pause, he says “Vitamins.”

You see one of your children feeding the dog from the dinner table, against house rules. He sees that you have caught him. With the appropriate pause he says “The dog said he'd bite me if I didn't feed him.”

You find an ice cream container on the counter. It is not desert time. In it is melted ice cream. You then find three empty bowls with ice cream remnants. You call to your kids and ask who gave them permission to get the ice cream. With the appropriate pause….they finger each other.

Your husband comes home from work and asks "How was your day?" With the appropriate pause…..