I am a fairly decent mom. I'd even say I'm a good mom. I've been a mom for almost eight years now, amazing as that is. So why is it that my grandmother can't seem to understand that I'm not an idiot? She called me today to make sure I knew all the risks of sparklers and small fireworks and to ensure that there would be no plans incorporating those things for the fourth of July. Personally, I have no problem with some of those little fireworks, if you're responsible enough to handle them. That generally means - to me anyway - not for use by children. But fun for children to watch!
My husband was a Marine. His specialty was demolitions. He happens to LOVE fireworks because it's really the closest he gets to that stuff now. I'm not going to take that from him. He loves to do it. CrazyHorse loves to watch it. I'm not saying that I'm going to hand the kid a sparkler or anything - even though my mom let me do it (and I'm sure she got the EXACT same phone call 20 years ago). That doesn't mean I'm going to let him light the bumblebees or pinwheels or whatever the Hubster happens to bring home (even though my mom let me do it).
I love my boys. I do my damnedest to ensure their safety. I enforce the helmet rule, the seatbelt rule, the booster seat rule. I make sure there are safety plugs in all the sockets, that the cleaners are out of reach, that the alcohol is out of reach, that all OTC and Prescrip medicines are out of reach. I'm not an idiot and I hate being treated like one. I did discover that the fastest way to get my grandmother off the phone is to tell her that I'm not an idiot. Somedays I wonder if she thinks I'd be the worst mother in the world without her constant, daily reminders of what I'm supposed to be doing.
Probably.
But I'm not. And I wouldn't be.
Posted by Shade53 at July 2, 2008 10:53 PM