Sarah Nigbor

I hope all the mothers and stepmothers out there had a beautiful, wonderful Mother’s Day filled with pampering, gratitude and love. Being a parent is the toughest job I’ve ever taken on. I didn’t fully comprehend just how tough until I had my daughter almost 14 years ago. Then it quadrupled when my three stepsons came into my life 11 years ago. I never saw myself as a mother figure and never planned on having children, but God had the last laugh. And I’m glad he did. If you had told me 20 years ago that I’d be chasing around four kids in a third-row SUV, I would’ve laughed hysterically.

Let’s be real. When kids are teenagers, most of the the glow of motherhood you felt holding your sweet little baby has worn off, replaced with haggard bags under your eyes, a schedule that looks like a battle plan and an empty wallet. But every once in a while, I get a glimmer of the people my children are becoming; some days it’s just a tiny spark, other days a roaring flame, but it’s enough to keep me going.

Most parenting is about as far from a Hallmark card as you can get. Instead of sharing with you how wonderful my kids are (which they are underneath that surly teen exterior), I decided to share a funny story about each that made me want to rip my hair out at the time.

My darling daughter has always said exactly what she thinks, from a young age. A blessing and a curse. She went through a phase at age 2 when she told everyone she met that her grandma pooped her pants. She sweetly told the plumber who came to fix our dishwasher that Grandma pooped her pants. She also told the cashier at the grocery store. My mother wanted to die of embarrassment, but I thought it was hilarious (because it wasn’t me). Don’t they say that little children tell the truth? Just kidding Mom!

Next up is Lincoln and Dawson, who are a scant year and a half apart in age. They are rivals at everything they do, including breathing, sitting on a couch, claiming the front seat, etc. One snowy Christmas Eve, we were coming back from my husband’s grandparents’ home in eastern Wisconsin when the battle began in the back seat, where Lincoln, Dawson and Carolina sat. One boy licked the other on the cheek (no one will admit who was first), and they kept doing it to each other until Dawson was having an absolute meltdown. Carolina was watching in a wide-eyed horror as they both shrieked and cried, denying that they would ever start such a thing. This went on for miles as I tried to keep the truck in its icy lane on I-94.

To drown out the wailing, Ethan (the oldest) and I sang Christmas carols at top volume while Shane tried to sort out the licking debacle. He finally had enough when no one would admit to it and they couldn’t keep their tongues or hands to themselves. Over “The Twelve Days of Christmas,” he shouted that liars go to hell, so they better say their prayers and ask for forgiveness if Santa was going to come. Not his finest parenting moment, but I completely understand why he lost it. This had been going on for HOURS. I felt pretty close to losing it myself.

His comment worked in that they stopped licking and pinching each other, but then they were both sobbing, asking to talk to our pastor to ask forgiveness. Shane tried to tell them they were forgiven, that they had to listen when told to stop. Dawson was so upset that he threw up all over the floor, which Ramona the Beagle/Lab then ate. She then threw up all over the backseat as all three little ones screamed. I will never be able to hear “The Twelve Days of Christmas” again without having PTSD. We can all laugh about it now, but wow, what a night.

Ethan, the oldest, has usually been the most well-behaved. He looks down upon his siblings with disdain when they misbehave and lords it over them that he is top dog. He can also be a know-it-all and doesn’t like to listen to directions if he thinks he knows best. This is how he blew up our shop vac in the kitchen (don’t ask) after I had just gotten done cleaning the whole house. I stood there in disbelief as dust, debris and Asian beetle carcasses settled upon us like a fine rain.

“Well, at least we can use the shop vac to clean it up!” he said.

Happy Mother’s Day!