We’re The Kids Of America
I have just discovered, once again, why I rank so highly on the list of the worst mothers in the world. I’m not the worst, that’s my mother and she refuses to relinquish her coveted #1 Worst Mom position even though all her children are technically adults, but I’m climbing. My maternal skills seem to be disintegrating in direct proportion to Princess Know-It-All’s aging. But I’m getting ahead of myself here.
Tonight’s adventure took us on our first family field trip to a radiologist. This had nothing to do with PK and everything to do with Spy Baby and her recent bout of digestive issues which were causing her to vomit intermittently over the course of a couple weeks at semi-random (always after 6pm) times. This is another of those experiences that will seem funny to me someday but is still safely ensconced in the humorless category as I’m still waiting for test results to confirm or contradict the doctor’s theory of kidney problems. But as usual I am digressing.
As we drove to the radiology office SB commented to PK that she had chocolate on her chin. As I watched in the rearview mirror SB attempted to mime the location of the chocolate to PK with no success. The more SB tried the more ludicrous PK’s attempts became until I had two giggly girls wiggling around my back seat. I finally grabbed my little chapstick (actually lipstick but I don’t wear that so…) case that has a little mirror in it and handed it back. PK quickly swiped the leftover pudding off her chin and handed it back to me. As we were stopped at a red light I turned around to make sure her face was truly clean and at first thought she had missed a spot but then realized that it wasn’t chocolate still marring her skin. Before I could ascertain exactly what the spot on her chin was the light turned green and we were moving again.
By the time we reached the office it was dark and I had completely forgotten PK’s chin. We went in, got some neat pictures of SB’s kidneys, I got a bruise on my shin from where she kicked me while she tantrumed and we left again. Not painless but no blood was shed so I’m calling it a victory.
Back home once again it was bedtime so I herded the monkeys upstairs, into jammies then into their beds. As I stood awkwardly on the bottom bunk to kiss PK goodnight on her top bunk I again noticed the odd mark on her chin. Unfortunately PK’s bunk is too high for any good light to reach and as I was standing quite precariously I ordered her down to the floor for a closer examination.
On the ground and standing directly in the light I tilted PK’s head up and leaned in close to examine her skin only to realize that my dear little 9.5 year old PK has her very first PIMPLE!
When I explained to her what the blemish was she began to cry. I kid you not. The child fell apart faster than over-baked cookies. This is where the bad mommy stuff comes in.
It might be that I’m used to the occasional (okay, okay, CONSTANT) breakout and a single pimple is just not that big of a deal to me. Or I could just have a cold heart of stone. Either way the bottom line is that I laughed. Just a small smile and shake of my head at the silly little girl who was falling apart over something that will soon become a routine part of her existence. Unfortunately she didn’t have my perspective on the situation and she cried harder.
The harder she cried the more I laughed. She finally started yelling at me but not for laughing. PK actually accused me of causing her pimple. She really stood there and blamed me for making clogging her pores. This of course opened the floodgates of good-natured ridicule which took our conversation through an odd discourse of how if I’d never given birth to her she wouldn’t have a pimple now and would be much happier. What I wouldn’t give to be as smart as her.
My favorite part of our bizarre exchange was when I tried to play the part of sympathetic cool mom and said, “Honey, this is just part of growing up.” She replied, “But I’m just a kid!” to which I responded “That’s generally when growing up happens.” I finally ended the conversation by jokingly asking what she wanted me to do and if she thought I could just send the pimple fairy to come take it away before morning. She said yes so I’m supposed to give her a call and see if she can make it tonight.
This is one of those moments that I’ve thought about a lot since having a daughter. I imagined that we would bond and I would share with her vast amounts of knowledge on skin care and other assorted beauty tips. I also imagined that PK would be 16 when this happened so unfortunately the only beauty tip I was prepared to give was “You should wash your face better.” Yeah, worst mom ever here I come!
I wonder if the pimple fairy pays for zits.
