Freakin' Ingrate

Why do kids seem to take the few missteps that you've made as a parent and not just run with them but weave them into the fabric of their life's story? In this case, "My Sucky Mother" by Jack Christie. It's not the nights that you've gone without sleep because you were making costumes for his school play.......oh,not just for him...for the entire GRADE..... that they remember. Not the great talks you've had and the tears you've wiped and the ridiculous ass birthday parties you've thrown year after grinding year. It's not the room-mothering or the carefully packed lunches (complete with cutesy note) or the field-trip chaperoning. Here's what MY child remembers.  We're driving to school a few weeks ago and outta the back seat comes, "Hey Mom! Remember when you guys used to lock me in my room?". WHAT?!!!! We did not LOCK him in his room. Well, we kinda did but it was for his own good. It was that horrible stage in which the child is getting used to a big-boy bed and keeps coming out and coming out and coming out of his room. They sell child-baffling handle covers for normal door knobs but we did not HAVE normal doorknobs. So we fashioned up a little device that prevented him from opening the door.  He was NEVER locked in his room all night. This lasted about a week and solved the problem. Apparently this was a very emotionally damaging week in the life of young Jack as it's a rather popular theme with him. GET THE HELL OVER IT. Then there's the, "Hey Mom! Remember when you completely lost it when we were leaving Gymboree and started screaming at me?". Why yes, Jack, I do. And the reason I remember it so vividly is that IT HAPPENED ONCE. ONCE. Do you know how many mom's lose their shit on their kid's DAILY? I have lost my shit on you once.  In TEN years. Apparently I should have done it more often as it wouldn't have been such an "event" for you. It's not too late to start. Oh, and that day? You were being an ass of epic proportions. The fact that you were three notwithstanding. And rounding out the trifecta of the horrible things that have happened to Jack Christie (as there truly are only three......trust me, I'd have heard about it if there were more.....) is, "Hey Mom! Remember when you gave me a margarita?" OH FOR GOD'S SAKE. I did not give him a margarita. Well, I actually did but I didn't know it at the time. We were up at the family cottage and I was out on the porch somewhat engrossed in a book.  Jack comes up and asks if he can have a glass of lemonade. Sure. That's summery. Shiny happy childhood memory in the making! Having a glass of lemony goodness on the porch with good ol' mom. So I go into the kitchen, probably with my nose still in the book and grab a pitcher of lemonade. Put ice in the glass, walk back to porch and hand it to 8-year old son. And promptly go back to reading.  "Hey Mom!  This isn't lemonade. It's a grown-up drink". No it's not Jack, it's lemonade. I just poured it out of the pitcher myself. "MOM!  I'm not drinking this....I'm telling you it's not lemonade". Fine. Take sip. JESUS CHRIST!!!!! YOU ARE CORRECT. THAT IS NOT LEMONADE. There's one shiny happy childhood memory down the shitter.  Especially when followed by the running through the house screaming, "GRANDMAAAAA!!!!!! MOM JUST GAVE ME A MARGARITA!!!!!!". Excuse me but it was an accident. I would never give my child alcohol. At least not on purpose. That would be a complete waste of a perfectly nice cocktail. What I would like to know is what kind of a half-wit puts margaritas in a lemonade pitcher and then neglects to tell ME about it??!!! Was somebody hoarding? Or trying to trick me? Is that what passes for an intervention in my family?  Well it backfired, dumbasses. All I know is that I had better get my ass upstairs and start making some magical Christmas tree shaped gingerbread pancakes or something before my little darling awakes from sugar-plum slumber. I clearly need to start making up for lost time. I've still got 9 years.