Hypocrisy, Thy Name is Motherhood?
I’ve been slinging a diaper bag and parenting with the best of them for almost five years now. During that time, I’ve lost much in the way of dignity and coolness.It’s just hard to feel like a bad ass when you can sing all the Thomas the Train sings by heart and yet have no idea who most of the musical guests are on SNL anymore. To say nothing of the fact that I wear sweatpants in public, regularly, and without shame.
Despite my sartorial failings, I’ve always considered myself more or less a straight shooter. If I say something to my kids, I want them to trust that it’s the real deal. If they start questioning your word, it’s a straight shot from realizing “Don’t have sex because you’ll immediately get pregnant and burst into flames” is a lie to questioning the wisdom of “Don’t stick forks in the electrical sockets.”
Ain’t nobody got time for that many emergency room visits.
Lately, though, I’ve realized that, while not a liar, I am somewhat of a hypocrite. Last weekend, I put on a movie for my kids to watch. It was a totally age-appropriate, animated movie teaching numbers that I thought would be a hit until my son started whimpering and covering his face. Apparently animated accountant pirates and silly anthropomorphic sharks are TERRIFYING.
I used the Socratic method (because I went to college, yo) to help him realize there was no need to be scared of pictures on a TV screen. It didn’t do much to assuage his fears, however, and we eventually moved on to a different movie.
Later that night, Wes and I watched The Cabin In The Woods. It’s a Joss Whedon (whom long-term readers will know I LOVE) horror movie. I was curious enough about what Joss’s take would be to watch it, even though I normally don’t watch horror movies because I am a big ol’ CHICKEN. The images are far too vivid in my head and I take everything personally.
When a character is getting dragged, sobbing, through the forest by a bear trap embedded in his/her back, in my mind it’s ME getting dragged through pine needles and I have a hard time parsing reality from horror.
Anyway, when the movie was over I asked Wes, in a very tiny voice, to turn on all the lights and escort me to the bathroom because, I’ll admit it, I was spooked. It was a good movie, but it was horrifying. As advertised.
I fully realize the irony of trying to convince my son not to be scared of something on the screen and then turning into a whimpering wuss less than ten hours later. Hypocrisy, thy name is Erika.
Same thing happened again with my daughter and thunder the other night. How am I supposed to convince my daughter that thunder isn’t scary when my heart starts pounding every time a particularly loud thunderclap sounds overhead?
Who knows? Maybe candor would be better than a brave face. Anyone have an opinion they’d care to share on the subject?
