the smell of my desperation has become a stench

Featured community question with accompanying oopsie

Today’s featured community question comes from user mommasj:

And the reason I chose this one was because it perfectly coincides with the most recent Momversation I participated in where we talk about our worst parenting moments:

I got a little talky in the video I submitted (MUST BE ALL THIS TIME I SPEND WITH JON, see: the first long car drive we ever took together, after about thirty minutes I had to turn to him and go, you do realize that you haven’t stopped talking since we got in the car? And he was all, you do realize that THIS is what you’re getting yourself into?), so that’s why they had to do so many cuts when it gets to my part. Because my video looked like this paragraph.

And one of the points I wanted to get across that didn’t make it into the final edit was that while Jon and I have our moments, our at the end of the rope and ready to hang ourselves with it moments when the only thing preventing us from punching our fist through a window is the copay it would cost us to fix the wound, we aren’t physical at all when it comes to disciplining our children. We don’t spank or jerk or shake. We will get into Leta’s face and speak very loudly when the occasion calls for it, but even then, those moments have become much less frequent as she has gotten older, and the last time I did it was WHEN SHE ATE MY LAST WAFFLE FRY.

So when I say in the video that she winced while going, “Don’t harm me!” it struck me that this has got to be a built-in reflex, right? The wincing? Because we have never raised a hand to harm her in any way. Is it something residual from when we lived among lions? We’d see them and run? Did humans ever live among lions? Or was that just on Noah’s Ark?

Point is, oh dear Moses yes, we have all done something to or in front of our kids and then been totally ashamed. It’s called being human. And if you’re exempt from this then I’d like to see your battery pack or the cord you use to plug yourself into the wall.

Heather B. Armstrong

Hi. I’m Heather B. Armstrong, and this used to be called mommy blogging. But then they started calling it Influencer Marketing: hashtag ad, hashtag sponsored, hashtag you know you want me to slap your product on my kid and exploit her for millions and millions of dollars. That’s how this shit works. Now? Well… sit back, buckle up, and enjoy the ride.

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