Notes from Planet Mom

Fixing What Isn’t Broken                                        May 09, 2012

Forever I’ve been astounded by the stupidity with which I approach parenting—in particular, the tenet I uphold that involves fixing what isn’t broken. Like the blanket fort that would be “so much better” (read: on the fringe of collapse) if only it were larger. Or the refrigerator masterpiece that would surely sing if only it had more glitter glue and macaroni (never mind that it will no longer stick to the fridge without duct tape and divine intervention). And let us not forget the idiocy that routinely falls from my lips wherein I suggest upgrading to a life filled with rainbow sprinkles and hot fudge, when the child in question was perfectly content with a vanilla sort of existence. It’s what I do, apparently.

More than once my dear husband has reminded me how counterproductive this is—as if I needed to feel worse about my failures in the realm of motherhood. Clearly, I want my kids to appreciate what they have as well as the circumstances that surround them now and in the future, but for whatever reason I seem wholly incapable of leaving well enough alone—attempting to supersize their happiness as a matter of course.

Pets are a perfect example. I’ve known for quite some time that my children have had a desperate longing for a big, hairy dog. Something golden retriever-ish or perhaps a black lab with manic tendencies. But I’m allergic to dogs. And slobber, not to mention the notion of gargantuan tails on a quest to whack the bejesus out of anything and everything held sacred and dear. As a result, my brood has conceded defeat on their dog agenda, opting to be satisfied with a tiny hypoallergenic lap dog that does, indeed, possess manic tendencies and (thankfully) a smallish tail. 

But I felt bad (read: horrible) about not being able to give them the dog of their dreams, and I wanted to somehow make it up to them. So one summer not so long ago it made perfect sense to promise that we’d adopt two hamsters, but to then emerge from the pet store with five of the furry beasts—a moment I now recognize as having been inspired by sheer madness. It began innocently enough: “If one hamster per child was good,” I reasoned, “two per child was even better!” “And how could we possibly live with ourselves if we left behind the only remaining hamster in the big, scary tank, tragically separated from its brethren for all eternity?” It was unconscionable.

Who knew the stupid things would later morph into tetchy creatures with a propensity for cannibalism, indiscriminate pooing and nighttime revelry on par with Bourbon Street? Not that our dear rodents have ever visited New Orleans, but you get the idea.

Roughly one year later, the very same guilt-induced debacle transpired, although this time it involved lizards, not hamsters. Two were obviously better than one. Furthermore, I regarded the fact that lizards could potentially grow to be two feet long (necessitating a 40-gallon tank!) as inconsequential. Never mind the very real possibility that we could wind up with two males—ones that would eventually consume one another’s tails and toes. And because the gods apparently hate me, we do, indeed, own two males. Once again, I am reminded of how completely contented our children would have been with just one lizard.

At no time has my proclivity for fixing what isn’t broken become more apparent than now…as I recall the sundrenched afternoon during which I needlessly wrestled with websites and special sales codes, product details and compatibility charts all in the name of procuring a greatly coveted electronic gadget for my child—the one who was frolicking outside with her sister, wholly engrossed with a stick, a couple of foam swords and a giant tent they would later enshroud themselves with and careen around the yard, shrieking like banshees. Naturally, I interpreted this as a desperate cry for an iPod Touch, a device without which she would surely wither and die.

Apparently, my idiocy knows no bounds.

Planet Mom: It’s where I live (attempting to supersize happiness). Visit me there at www.facebook.com/NotesfromPlanetMom.

Copyright 2012 Melinda L. Wentzel