More Examples of Fine Parenting from the Mitchell Family
September 18, 2006 by Veronica Mitchell
Last week I was putting laundry away. JellyBean stood behind me and chanted, sing-song, “Dam-mit! Dam-mit! Dam-mit!”
Um. I tried to change the subject and give her something else to talk about. At dinner I *discussed* the event with Az the Occasionally Indelicate, who looked shamefaced and promised to be more careful with his words in future.
Today I took the girls to our church picnic. Az could not come because of work, so it was just me - tired, nauseated and pregnant - and my two girls. They had a great time. Sweetpea loves to sit on adult chairs, and was content to sit with me in the shade on a bench at the playground, watching her older sister run around on the monkey bars, or whatever those elaborate playsets are called nowadays.
There are lots of reasons to love our church: good preaching, many active ministries, a great nursery. But the physical space of it is not very welcoming. Like many city churches, it has security issues, so every door to the building gets locked. The sanctuary doors, loud and distracting, remain open during the service, but are locked moments after it is over. All of this was a bit frustrating today when I had to leave the sanctuary because of morning sickness. I longed for some fresh air, but the girls were in the nursery, and I knew if I stepped outside the chances were very slim that I could get back inside the building to meet them when the service was over (Az tried to go to the men’s breakfast last week, and he couldn’t get inside at all).
So I was feeling a little frustrated already when I tried to find the park chosen for the church picnic. I had not heard of it, and there were no directions offered at church, and MapQuest’s directions were wrong. I found the park, and then had some trouble finding the church crowd. I was a little grumbly by the time I did, and I think I muttered something about how this church stinks at the physicality of welcome.
Only I must not have muttered, because JellyBean started chanting, as we pulled into the parking lot, “This church stinks! This church stinks!”
Yikes.
Of course, we had a lovely time, and everyone was very friendly. The girls, offered an array of good food, dined happily but exclusively on beans and raisins, and wore themselves out playing and gawking at the boats on the river. A few people kindly offered to help me get my supper while I was trying to manage two toddlers. All in all, a good evening, and I repented of my sour attitude.
But I don’t think I can hassle Az for the “Dam-mit!” anymore.
My kids are also perfectly parented - my four-year-old hurt himself the other day, and as he was crying asked, “Mama, what’s that bad word that starts with an F again?”. I was ever so proud.
Ah….those humbling moments. You mention morning sickness, a third on the way?
Hope you feel better soon….
Ah, yes, don’t you love those fine parenting moments?
My hubby’s favorite line from the move Madagascar is, “Well, this sucks.” So our two adorable daughters get treated to it regularly and it’s their favorite thing to say! Yikes.
Despite hubby’s (sometimes questionable) sense of humor, my girls are so cute. When they’re trying to express themselves and they have a strong opinion about something, they’ll say, “Mom, can I say a bad word real quietly?” If I say yes, they’ll use something like “idiot” or “stupid.” Today my 9-yr-old asked if she could say a bad word and then told me solemnly, “I think those guys that crashed the planes into the World
Trade Center are going to h-e-l-l.” Gulp.
A conversation ensued!
Unfortunately, our girls know and sometimes say two swear words, one in french no thanks to dad, and the other in english, no thanks to me.
Very cute. Very first trimester. Saying “stinks” was pretty restrained of you, especially in the throes of morning sickness.
True Story
Tammy takes Sarah Grace to see “How to eat fried worms” — our five year old bundle of laughs has laryngitis and can barely speak over a whisper, which is a blessing because:
at one point a character refers to his private part as a “dilly-dick” at which point the whispering wonder asks Tammy “What’s a dilly-dick” — Tammy, trying to minimize the moment responds with “i don’t know” at which point Sarah Grace stands and says as loud as she can “does anybody know what a dilly-dick is?”
Laryngitis is providential!
So you’re raising good Christian children who listen to their mother and who speak their mind. Not too shabby. A little uncomfortable, maybe, but it could be worse.
Any cussing mine pick up is all me. My daughter has picked up Sponge Bob curses like “Oh Tarter Sauce” which is really cute and proves my theory that cursing provides a deep need in some of us.
Thanks for the link at Sweatpantsmom’s. It was nice.
I was driving on a mountain road and a wildfire came into view, I mean a HUGE wildfire and I said ‘holy sh*t’ from which my son interpreted that fire = sh*t and for about a week following whenever he saw a flame (like say, the candle at the restaurant or the fire place at my in-law’s house) he would point at it and say sh*t. total humiliation.
Ha ha! And her bad mother’s comment (above) is absolutely right on. You go girl!