The curse takes effect—let the gloating begin
For centuries, or so I hear, mothers have placed upon the heads of their daughters The Curse. I'm talking about the doom and damnation of sorts that mothers pass along to their daughters, swearing that once they have children of their own, they will surely get their due for all the drama, trauma and heartache they once put their mothers through.
The Curse is such a cliché.
Well shiver me timbers and consider me clichéd, for I've uttered The Curse many a time—and I now gloat about seeing it in action.
When my girls were young, we had a trampoline. A big, round, bouncy gateway to injury and potential paralysis. My family had a trampoline when I was a kid and it was such fun that my youngest sister tried to convince me I simply had to provide similar fun for my daughters, despite the dangers. In 1992, I succumbed to her peer pressure. We got a trampoline. Despite the dangers.
As the dangers of a trampoline were many and my imagination expounded upon all of them, always and in all ways, I spent a lot of my time cringing and wringing my hands while my daughters jumped with joy. They did seats, stomachs, knees, seat and stomach wars, and—ohmyohmy!—front flips, back flips, and swan dives. I trembled with fear and anxiety each time they climbed up on the frame, removed their shoes, and proceeded to jump.
My fear and anxiety multiplied each time the girls invited friends over to jump. It was assuaged a bit—at least the fear Jim and I would be sued by parents of kiddos who had jumped right over the edge and onto their necks, leaving them paralyzed for life—by my requirement that every single child who did not belong to me have a permission slip signed by a parent before they even considered stepping foot on the mat. My daughters often whined and complained about having to hand out the slips to friends they invited over, to which I recited the dangers of the <cuss> thing and how kind and awesome of me it was to even allow such a death trap on my property and that they darn well better appreciate that and abide by my one simple rule regarding permission slips if they want to ever jump again themselves, much less with friends.
Yes, I was a paranoid parent. Allowing my daughters—and their friends—to jump on the trampoline took every ounce of restraint I had as well as never-ending lectures to myself on the importance of letting kids be kids. But I did it. I survived it. And so did they—despite my fears, my worries, my visions of daughters in wheelchairs or worse simply because I allowed my kids to be kids.
Fast forward to this past weekend.
Megan, Preston, and my grandsons moved into a new house over the weekend. They originally considered finding a rental that included a swimming pool (a pretty common commodity in their part of the desert) which worried me like mad thinking of all the ways such a feature could be fatal for Bubby and Baby Mac. Luckily Megan and Preston settled on a place that had no pool. Instead, the back yard features a full-size trampoline built into the ground.
Naturally the idea of the trampoline worries me nearly as much as a swimming pool. At this point I'm not too concerned about whether Megan requires permission slips for Bubby's friends, I'm concerned about Bubby himself. (Thankfully Baby Mac is not yet old enough to be on the trampoline. Or he sure as heck better not be allowed on it yet. Note to self: Ask Megan about that.)
Turns out I don't need to be all that concerned about Bubby's safety. Because despite all the times Megan, as a pre-teen and teen, complained—in unison with her sisters, of course—and told me to "calm down" or "stop freaking out" when my trampoline paranoia reached fever pitch, she finally gets it. How do I know? Because Saturday, just after she and Preston first introduced Bubby to the trampoline (and attempted a few tricks of their own as examples), Megan called me to say: "I can't believe you let us do the things we did on the trampoline, Mom."
In her voice and between the lines, the worry, fear, concern, trepidation, and unspoken WTF did we get ourselves into? was unmistakable. Call me mean but it was music to my ears.
The Curse had finally gone into effect.
And I'm not one bit ashamed to admit that so has the gloating.
I suppose tempering the gloating would be the proper tack at this point, though, so as to not tempt fate. For I'm headed to the desert later this week to babysit Bubby and Baby Mac while Megan and Preston attend a conference, and the request has been made that I help Bubby learn a thing or two on the trampoline while Mom and Dad are away.
I'm thinking I might need to write up a permission slip for Megan and Preston to sign before they hit the road and leave me in charge of Bubby's trampoline use. Just in case. I've never heard of any guarantee that, once enacted, The Curse won't backfire.
Today's question:
Describe ways you've seen The Curse in effect—whether it was placed by you or upon you.
Tuesday, January 24, 2012
Reader Comments (11)
You are a far better Mom/member of the Grandmotherhood than I am. The mere thought of a trampoline makes my heart pound and I'm pretty sure they'd have to put me in restraints!
Curse 1 wished UPON me by my Mom countless times (referring to stubborn, determined, strong-willed, outspoken, etc.) - "I hope you have a daughter just like you someday!"... thanks much Mom, x2. Of course, then placed BY me...and gratefully granted to oldest daughter in the form of Granddaughter. Woohoo! Please, oh please, let rebellious youngest daughter experience the same...I have faith in divine justice.
(Literal) Curse 2 placed UPON me by my Dad. The family joke is that my name growing up was , "Kelly, (GD) shut up!" Usually spoken during my Dad's favorite tv show, yelled at 6 in the morning when I was belting out songs in the shower, or at the climax of a 2 hour movie when I found it extremely important to share my thoughts. Youngest daughter talks more than I do. About anything and everything...consequential or not...and often at the most inopportune moments. I'm pretty sure that my Dad is still laughing in Heaven.
Curse 3 (the shopping curse) - Another one placed UPON me again and again by my Mom after hours/days/weeks shopping for an exact outfit that I wanted...inevitably leading to, "Kelly, maybe they just don't make what you want!!" Again, her curse granted x2. And oh so grateful that I no longer have to shop with my daughters. Of course, curse now placed BY me for both daughters. Please, please let it come to fruition some day through Grandchildren...1000s of stores in Chicagoland. (insert evil laugh).
Now Kelly (GD) needs to shut up! LOL.
Lisa, I can NOT stop laughing at the thought of you printing out permission slips to give to Preston and Megan. I seriously think you should - just for kicks.
I love reading stories about you raising your girls because I have no doubt that if I had been a mom, I would have been EXACTLY like you. Just the sight of kids I don't even know on a trampoline makes me hyperventilate a little bit. I'm not sure I would've been as good on the whole "kids will be kids" thing, though. I'm seriously thinking of wrapping both my nieces in bubble wrap and moving to Oklahoma so that I can home school them, ensuring they never have to actually leave the house into a world full of mean girls and trampolines.
I can't believe Megan would tempt fate, through another generation, with a trampoline for her kids! That stupid thing in the yard when you kids were jumping on it gave me multiple mini-strokes and sleepless nights through-out your childhood; also had quiet fits during the childhood of your girls.
At least you don't have to have visions (horrible!) of finding little boys floating in a pool. I don't think I ever wished a curse on you kids re: the trampoline; I was too busy praying to God that none of my visions would come to pass. Now, I have to worry about Megan's kids. Because that's a great-grandmother's job.
my curse involved a son with a dirt bike....I had nightmares all during his teen years. I threatened him with the curse of a son just like him but alas he only had a daughter. That one sure backfired. Maybe it was for the best. Love your reminisces.
Okiewife's comment above was my curse. My mother lived in terror from the day I got a motorcyle at 18 to the day I gave it up (along with flying) when my kids came along. Jump ahead to my 25 year old daughter learning to ride and wanting to get her licence. I had such gut ache until, later that summer when she decided it wasn't for her, and gave up the idea.
Every time she was out on the road, or I imagined her to be, all I could think of was her mangled bones under a truck's wheel. Yet not once did I think the same thing for myself all those years earlier.
Curse it all!
Oh wow, Lisa! I'd also be worried about the dangers of a trampoline. I hope Bubby is careful. I'm all for teaching independence and resilience to children, but it doesn't hurt to exercise caution when things can be dangerous.
I haven't had any "ah ha" moments as yet, but I'm sure my son and DIL will put some limits on what my grandsons are allowed to do as they grow up.
Funny beyond words!! Haaa!!
Congratulations on The Curse having finally gone into effect!!!!
( Most every mother's dream. :)
Sending hugs ~
Thankfully we never had a trampoline, unfortunately our next door neighbor did, haha. It was "in ground" which helped, but every time I sat out on the deck and there were kids out there playing I could hear them and I held my breath every time I heard anything that sounded painful. Like your girls, all the neighbor kids grew up fine and didn't get hurt, but it was very stressful on me!
I am loving watching the curse come to fruition with my granddaughter. She is JUST LIKE her mother in every way, and it's driving my daughter crazy. They are both smart, creative, and stubborn, and I love them to death. Watching my 5 y.o. granddaughter outwit her mommy is so satisfying!
I love the permission slips! I would never have thought of that.
Oh yes, I am familiar with the mommy curse. I dream that some day my son will have children who hurtle through life full speed ahead on any kind of wheels imaginable, jumping every possible barrier. Suffice it to say that Nick at the emergency room was like Norm at Cheers. Any time we walked in, the entire staff said "Hi Nick." I do feel bad for his wife though. She's going to have to endure a lot of sleepless nights.
Thank you for all the comments that make it clear I'm not the only evil mother/grandmother who takes great pleasure in seeing the payback—the curse—in action! :o)