How to be a Not Terrible Mother

It was my nephew Nathan's birthday, and we gathered at Carol and Mike's to celebrate. Since Nathan's big day is only three days after Keaton's, Jackie and Michael (my niece and her boyfriend) gave Keaton his birthday present. It's a super-cool tee - slash - pitching machine -ish thing complete with a plastic bat. Awesome gift.

Around 8:00, the boys decided they wanted to swim. Being the benevolent mother I am, I allowed them thirty minutes in the pool, but then they had to go home and straight to bed. They followed instructions exactly, and at 8:30 they got out of the pool, changed into dry clothes, and began to tell everyone goodnight.

It was on the way to the car that things got ugly.

Keaton wanted to carry his birthday present. But the oldest child didn't want that to happen, so he raced to the toy and began running toward the car. Of course, Keaton began to scream a scream that woke the dead. Being a mother is really all about being a mediator, so I put on my stern face and called to Tucker, "Put that thing down right now!"

The only problem was that I was holding the little plastic bat that came with the toy. Okay, I had been holding the bat, but something about putting on my stern face and yelling made the bat seem a little more imposing.

A look of fear came across Tucker's face, and he clenched the toy and took off at a dead run. And Trey saw.

Then things got uglier. Tucker began to scream like he was being chased by a wild animal. Trey had fire coming out of his ears and was chasing Tucker in a half-walk/half-run with his fists clenched. They circled, and they circled, Tucker screamed and he screamed. In the background, Keaton was still screaming because Tucker still had his toy. It would have been funny if I weren't so concerned that the neighbors would call the cops. Thank goodness we were at someone else's house. Boy are those neighbors going to talk.

Finally, Tucker stopped. Trey administered a little corporal punishment and put him in the car, and I said comforting words to both boys in my calm, motherly voice. Aside from the occasional whimpers in the back seat, it was a silent ride home.

Trey and I, however, had an interesting conversation on the way without saying any actual words. He looked at me as we pulled away, and in my head I said, "He's really tired and I scared him because I yelled at him while I was holding the bat."

He looked back at me and thought, "Oh, whatever! You don't actually think he was afraid you would hit him with the bat!"

I responded with another look that said, "But he's really tired. I let him stay up too late."

And then Trey's eyes said, "You are such a sucker. He cannot act like that even if he's tired."

Then I told him (without speaking, of course), "Yeah, you're probably right."

We drove home amidst whimpers, and I hugged my sweet boys and put them straight to bed. I told myself that even though I inadvertently waved a bat at my son in a threatening way, I am not a terrible mother.