Coddled egg (head)

On February 11, 2011 by Eden M. Kennedy

I would like to take a moment to acknowledge this web site’s status as a MOMMY BLOG. God, I hate that phrase, but there it is. My own child doesn’t even call me “mommy” — he prefers to poke me with a pool cue, or throw something light at my head, like a pack of cards or a handful of dog kibble. However distasteful and infantilizing the term, I would like to belatedly thank Babble.com for giving me the #28 spot on their list of 50 top MOMMY BLOGGERS. Since I don’t actually write about my child that much anymore, it feels like they put me on there as a sort of acknowledgment for prior work. Like when they finally gave the Oscar to Martin Scorcese for The Departed, even though he’d made at least five films previously that were far more amazing, and not merely for slow-motion bodily fluid explosions, or putting duct tape over Jerry Lewis’s mouth.

Not that a link from Babble is like an Oscar. Not that I’m the Martin Scorcese of mommybloggers. If you are reading at grade-level I probably don’t have to make that clear, but I find that making things like that clear is sometimes not a bad idea.

This is all a preamble to the fact that I am about to write about my child. My child who is on his fourth fifth day out of school this week and napping doing his homework on the couch next to me at this very moment. The child for whom I bought an 8-pack of Puffs Plus With Lotion because he asked for that brand by name, hoping that the ads were true and that they’d heal his shredded nostrils. (They didn’t.) The child who was out sick from school for a week two weeks ago for a sickness only half as bad as this. (It’s beginning to feel like we’re homeschooling him.)

But I’m starting to question my own motives. MUST CALL IN TO WORK SO I CAN STAY HOME AND NEST WITH CHILD. Is this 24/7 cuddle party for him or for me?

Whatever the underlying motives, I’m afraid that all this snurgling and reading and watching cartoons has made him think that having bronchitis and an ear infection is absolutely the best, most loving and emotionally rewarding thing that can happen to a boy. Sure, I want him to feel the healing power of motherly love, but I’m a little concerned that I’m creating a self-indulgent recluse who is going to grow up looking for a way to spend his life on disability. Of course, I could be creating another Proust! Whose magnum opus will hinge on recovering the long-lost taste of apple juice and liquid Zithromax.

Comments

comments

27 Responses to “Coddled egg (head)”

  • I’m the wrong person to answer to that thought, but I eagerly await other commenters.

  • What?! You’re not going to judge me based on incomplete knowledge of the situation? I’m revoking your mommyblog commenting card.

  • Long time reader, first time caller. I have no inspiring (or alarming) thoughts about Jackson’s future as a Proustian (or Lebowskian?) recluse – however, a thought on his poor nostrils: Palmer’s cocoa butter stick. I had the Cold That Would Not Die and that stuff healed me like nobody’s business.

  • I say, get the cuddles where and how you can, and then worry about undoing the damage.

  • No no no… I meant in my case… it’s TOTALLY about me. Staying home with my boy? Oh, hell yes.

  • I think you’re doing absolutely everything right, couldn’t do no righter, to your face, and sure, I’ll go ahead and judge you, but it will be behind your back, if you don’t mind, where all the good judging is done.

  • I was trying to get my six-year-old son through the bedtime routine a few nights ago when he said wistfully – “Mom, remember when I was puking? You were so nice to me.” So, yeah.

  • New reader here. Love your writing. You gotta get the cuddles while you can is my vote, whether your son is a Proust in the making or not!

  • Cuddle like crazy. I’m still reeling from never being hugged but once a month or less and I’m 42.

    Also, it is ESSENTIAL to ALWAYS buy the Puffs Plus with Lotion because they will prevent nose destruction from being sick. However, with two weeks you are doomed to some misery there regardless. I find that a thin slick of petroleum jelly around the nostrils a few times a day when I’m a running faucet is soothing and prevents damage.

  • Kleenex with lotion is not as soft as the Puffs, by the way. I’ve tested both and I have delicate skin.

    • BUT the Kleenex with lotion are fabulous everyday tissues-no linty awfulness. They are crap as a lotion-y tissue. Yes, I have a weird thing for paper products…

  • Not that I’m implying you haven’t cleaned out the medicine cabinet since the baby years, but if you have any lanolin (for the chapped nipples!) it works wonders on chapped noses.

  • It will all be taken care off in therapy in twenty years, no to worry mon
    Amie…

  • [Advice to do what you already thought of that indicates my mothering skillz are mad huge.]

    [Irrelevant comment: There's a Justin Bieber ad in your masthead. Do these advertisers know your a mommyblogger. Or does that say something about women of mommy age that is something akin to what was being said about men of daddy age when that Britney Spears girl was prancing around showing her belly button.]

    That can’t be right, can it? Are moms pervy like that? But a friend of mine who performs at children’s parties once told me he was sure that moms have sexual fantasies about Steve from Blues Clues just based on how they reacted when he wore a shirt that looked like the one Steve wore in Blues Clues. Maybe I should look within to verify the tendencies of moms as I too, am a mommy.

    Anyway, congrats on your prize!!! I think it is especially impressive that you beat out all those mommybloggers who write about their kid when you aren’t even writing about your kid except once in a while!

  • My father-in-law is from Vermont, and like all good people from that fine state, Bag Balm is the cure for all things irritated. Have a pimple? Put bag balm on it. Have a broken arm? Put bag balm on it. I am from Ohio, and we use Pink Salve. It smells better than bag balm, that is for sure. The bag balm is what they use on cows when their udders get chapped. When my kids are home they watch Sponge Bob around the clock and sit on my lap. There will be no judging from here.

  • Congratulations mommyblogger! (I really dislike that term.)

    The cuddle party is for you, and you earned it. I could take a few lessons–I’m always skeptical when my kids claim sickness, so I test them out by saying, “Okay, you can stay home but it means you have to stay in your bed all day until when school would be out.” If they agree, I know they’re really sick and I let them loll about on the couch watching DVDs and eating ice cream and 7-up. Otherwise, they are recruited into helping me with laundry, which seems to have magical healing powers.

    Unsolicited advice: zinc-infused diaper rash creme (I highly recommend Aveeno or Burt’s Bees) to heal that sub-nasal skin overnight.

  • I never thought of you as a mommy blogger, but if you insist…

    I only have memories of my Gramma taking care of me when I was sick and missing school.

  • You’re a mommyblogger? God, that is so disheartening. I’ve been reading you for damn near a decade and all this time, I thought you were someone’s quirky aunt. Well, shit. I feel so used.

    If Alice ‘comes out’ as a mommyblogger next, I swear to the baby jesus that I’ll start throwing knives at people.

  • That’s so rad! Now I don’t feel so bad. Sometimes, I ask my kids “Are you sure you feel alright today?” just secretly hoping one of them wants to fake sick so we can snuggle in my bed with the dogs and watch phineas and ferb all day.

  • If he turns out to be the kind of guy who pays construction workers (outside of the cork room you’ve doomed him to) more than their clients, just so they’ll be quiet, send him over!

    Please.

  • Alright, I don’t generally cotton to cutesy Internet-speak abbreviations, but OMG I am LOLing about the Puffs thing; my 7-year-old son, now home from school for the fourth day, asked for the same after seeing them work their magic on the little claymation dude in the TV advertisement.

    “At last!” he exclaimed when my wife unloaded several boxes of them from the grocery bag.

    Moments later, he added, “Those commercials are a lie.”

  • I feel bad now that I prejudged that Bieber movie & it turns out to get great reviews on rotten tomatoes. Let’s go see it!

  • My 4 year old tells me sick days are his favorite. Sometimes I have fantasties about getting him (minorly) ill since being sick is the only time he’ll let me hold him these days. “Here … lick this refridgerator door handle…”

  • Oh dear, I am my tough-love mother’s child and just give my daughter a steely glare and push her out the door so I can deal w/my job which, alas, does not have a call-in-sick option but just a neverending set of deadlines. Also, cuddling is all well and good in theory, but my kid just digs at me with her toes and whacks me in the eye with her elbow. She is as cuddly as a demented giraffe.

    I cannot even wrap my brain around you as a mommyblogger. To me you will always be the 3-D replica of the English Beat “Beat Girl.” Because I knew you in the 80s (sorta), dammit, when there was no blogging to be done.

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