A Mom's greatest job...

So I was thinking the other day, "Why does it seem like I am really bad at this whole 'Mom' thing sometimes?" And I think I've figured it out.

You always hear about those funny lists that people make about a Mom's true job description:

"The job titles that best matched a mom's definition of her work are (in order of hours spent per week): housekeeper, day care center teacher, cook, computer operator, facilities manager, van driver, psychologist, laundry machine operator, janitor and chief executive officer."

(http://swz.salary.com/momsalarywizard/htmls/mswl_momcenter.html )

And I laugh as I totally agree with all of those. But I have never seen a list with the number one job that a mom does. Above keeping house, above launderer and even above short-order cook.

And that is a cheerleader.

What in the world? I never wanted to be a cheerleader, in fact almost all of the cheerleaders I have ever met have been some of the most snooty, judgmental, fake people. You know the type, the "most popular" with all the attitude that comes along with it. Now, if you are a cheerleader (which I doubt anyone, much less a cheerleader, would be reading this) I probably don't know you, so you could be an exception to the rule, but I'm just saying what my experience has been.

I was the dork who stayed inside during recess to do extra algebra problems (for fun) in high school. I have had the pleasure of being ridiculed by every snobby, "I'm-better-than-you-are" cheerleader and cheerleader wanna-be. They are SO FAKE! Ok, I guess you get how I feel about them.

Anyway.

What is also not helping is the fact that I think I was born without a "mommy sympathy" bone.
Seriously.

This is a typical scenario in our house:

Kid: (while holding various body parts) "Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!!! Whaaaaaaaaaaaaa! Ow!Ow!Ow! Oh the pain!!, Etc. etc. yadda yadda"

Me: (Ok, a quick run-down in my head: I picture Beaver's mom, June, in her apron swooping down on the Beav, holding him lovingly and proceed to bandage his scraped knee with a full leg cast complete with cookies and kisses with every layer. Of course he can't walk with all that bandage, so she carries him to the couch and proceeds to wait on him hand and foot for the remainder of the day. Ugh. I would have kicked him in the butt and said, "What the crap, be a man would ya? You bled all over my clean floor!" Geez. I quickly decide against either option, but for different reasons)

So this is what I do:

Kid: (Runs into the house holding various body parts)"Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!!! Whaaaaaaaaaaaaa! Ow!Ow!Ow! Oh the pain!!, Etc. etc. yadda yadda"

Me: (with a bored look) "What happened?"

Kid: (Lifts various body parts to display some supposed obvious wound)"Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!!! Whaaaaaaaaaaaaa! Ow!Ow!Ow! Oh the pain!!, Etc. etc. yadda yadda"

Me: (sighs, why didn't Beaver ever do that?) "Well I can't help you if you don't tell me what happened"

Kid: (Shakes said body part at me)"Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!!! Whaaaaaaaaaaaaa! Ow!Ow!Ow! Oh the pain!!, Etc. etc. yadda yadda"

Me: (I think June must have been on drugs)"Ok, well, when you are ready to tell me what happened, I'll be over here."

Kid: Finally tells story of "life-threatening" injury with occasional sobs and sniffles.

Me: "Oh, suck it up, it's not even bleeding. You'll be fine."
(ok, this is what I really want to say, but obviously it wouldn't fly very well)

Me: (for real) "Oh, you poor thing, let me kiss it" (cheerleader drama!)



or what about this scenario:


Kid: "I can't do this! I'm so bad at it! I can't do anything right!"

Me: (have I mentioned I have a major aversion to drama?) "What's wrong?"

Kid: "This picture! I hate it! I can't draw anything! I'm horrible!"

Me: (good grief, where did I put that sympathy bone again?) "Oh honey, I'm sure it's fine, let me see"

Kid: "NO! It's terrible, I don't want it!" (they proceed to crumple it up)

Me: (sigh. I hate this part. I pick up the crumpled offender) "Oh wow! How beautiful is that?? I think you did a great job!! (I sneak a peek at them to see if they are buying this cartload. I can't make heads or tails out of this! Crud. What IS that?)

"I love how you used the purple here in this....um.....cake?"

Kid: (throws head down dramatically in hands and moans loudly) "I KNEW IT!! I STINK! That's not a cake, its a horse!!!" (more moaning) "I can't do anything right!"

Me: (oh, way to go mom. When are you going to learn not to guess??!! What would June do? {Besides more drugs}) "I am sorry honey, I saw this part and it looked like a cake to me, but now I see the horse, it's beautiful!" (I quickly scan through my inventory of "Things to Say When You Have Blown It Big-Time" I got nothing. I try to remember what all these books say, I've only read a couple hundred dozen parenting books...there HAS to be something!)

"Baby, I think you tried your best and that is what is the most important thing! I am proud of you!"

Kid: (grumps at me and proceeds to slam crumpled paper in the trash and stomp off)

I hate cheerleading. I am really bad at it. I mean REALLY bad.

I don't want to cheer these buggers on when they are acting like little brats! I don't think they deserve to be applauded for a cruddy attitude. Wait. I wonder where they get that attitude from anyway? Must be their father. Yeah, that's it.

Ok, seriously. Sometimes I get SO tired of the cheering. It feels so fake to me and I know they can see right through it. I wonder if that is how God feels with us sometimes when we keep screwing up?

Here is a question I have: "Does God ever roll his eyes at all our drama?

So here I am. Trying to improve my cheerleader skills. I bet June Cleaver was a cheerleader.