








Okay, I’m just going to go ahead and put it out there. At one point, I was the worst mom ever.
My feeble rationalization is that I wasn’t in charge of the kids when I was practicing crappy parenting. They were still under Dave’s jurisdiction, and he really should have been more vigilant in making sure I didn’t traumatize them.
I could probably write several entries about MANY of my stupid mom tricks. And at this point, since I have two really great, well-adjusted adult children, it doesn’t seem like there’d be any harm in it. I mean, it’s not like child protective services will come and take them away from me NOW.
But there are potential g’kids to think of, and I’d kind of like the judicial system on my side when it comes to spending time with them.
I admit, kids aren’t always the best audience for my off-beat sense of humor. But they’re nature’s perfect patsy.
For instance, when Jen was first learning how to talk, we did the standard, “What does a cow say? What does a duck say? What does a dog say?” And she was delighted to provide all the corresponding sounds.
But just to change things up a little, I’d throw in a “What does an aardvark say?” Or “What does a giraffe say?” Because the puzzled look that followed was WAY cuter than any “woof-woof” she could have produced.
When she was about four years old, I brought kiwi home from the grocery store. Cute little fuzzy kiwi. I let her hold one. I showed her how to pet it. We even baby talked to the kiwi.
Then I put it on the cutting board and chopped it in half.
Hey, I told you up front I was the worst. Did you think I was EXAGGERATING?
When Zach was probably about two and Jen was six, we brought home live lobsters for dinner. We let the kids play with them on the kitchen counters. We even gave one lobster a pen and a piece of paper so he could write his last will and testament.
The kids weren’t expecting to have little pinching pets. They were under no delusion that the lobsters would be anything more than dinner. So they weren’t upset when we dropped them into boiling water.
But a few minutes later, when steam began escaping the lobster’s shells, I couldn’t help myself.
“They’re screaming!” I said with wide eyes. “They’re screaming for help!”
Look, say what you want about me, but I was feeding my kids LOBSTER.
As the kids got older, Jen developed a sharp sense of parsimony. You know – if you hear hoof beats, don’t think zebras; assume your mom is galloping on the hardwood floor in clogs.
She was too smart for me to sucker her into anything anymore (except a good startle when I jumped out at her).
But Zach – he learned the pure joy of yanking someone’s chain.
The night before he started SECOND GRADE, we were going over the rules of classroom behavior. I told him I didn’t want him doing anything to make the teacher get mad at him.
In pure Zach style, he looked at me and said:
“WHAT IF I GET FRAMED?”
In some ways I’ve been exonerated for my appalling parenting.
I raised one child who questions everything, and she’s smarter for it. And I raised another who knows that quick, creative thinking can help him get ahead.
Really, what more could any parent ask?
Now, YOU TELL ME YOURS. What’s the worst stupid parent trick you ever pulled, or that your parents pulled on you? Leave your stories in the comments below!

If You Hear Hoof Beats...
Thursday, November 12, 2009
You can already see it in their eyes –
Zach’s mischief and Jen’s skepticism.
Please leave your comments HERE