Motherhood Can Make You Feel Like an Unwrapped Restaurant Mint

by Marinka on January 19, 2011

Today Shari from Dusty Earth Mother is guest posting for me. I actually met Shari in person and can report that she’s very lovely and looks like a pretty Julianne Moore and that she did not, not once, try to dismember me. (Oh, come on. I can’t be the only person who worries a little about dismemberment when meeting fellow bloggers!)


Enjoy Shari’s post and don’t forget to visit her at the wonderfully funny-with-heart blog and read every single post that she’d written there. Twice. (And Twitter! Follow her on Twitter!)

Motherhood Can Make You Feel Like an Unwrapped Restaurant Mint…

Small. Naked. An afterthought. Pressed up against the side of a clear glass bowl so you’re both exposed and trapped. And everyone who handles you leaves traces of their pee and poop.

My kids were playing that game again, the one I loathe called, “Let’s Kiss Mommy’s Butt” where they sneak up behind me and, uh, well, kiss my butt. (sidenote: WHY is this fun? Shouldn’t this be humiliating for them, not me? Apparently, the metaphor is lost on 5 and 6 year olds.)

So I stopped and fixed them with my most if-my-eyes-were-lasers-you’d-be-piles-of-ash look and said in my best so-steely-you-could-build-a-bridge voice, “Guys. That is disrespectful. I don’t like it. It’s not going to happen again.”

They looked at each other, looked at me, looked at each other again… and burst into hysterical laughter.

And I broke out in a cold sweat.

My kids have figured out that I got nothin’. I am so dead.

So I puffed up my concave bosom and assumed my High Goddess of Television Deprivation pose. “Really? This is how we’re going to act? Fine. Every butt kiss means a half hour of TV taken away.”

There are a few problems with this tactic. One, my kids are freaks and just don’t like TV enough for this to make any real emotional dent. Two, I said the word “butt”. Level 10 Mommy Naughtiness Factor.

They are now writhing on the floor in evil delight. For me, the room is spinning as I weigh my very few options.

Crazy thoughts fly through my mind, like saying, “When I was little, I respected and valued my Mommy.”

No, can’t play the “when I was little” card. I tried it the other day and my daughter countered with, “Mommy, when you were little, did you have a penis?” Not going there again.

Should I play the “WWJD” card? No, they may not respect me but I’m determined they’re going to respect him and any association of Jesus with butts, even as in “Jesus never would have kissed Mary’s” will backfire in a big way at Sunday school. Amen.

Should I just let them have their fun and endure the booty-smooching, choosing to see it as a harmless frolic, even though it makes me feel small and insignificant and mocked and stupid and…

Nope. Obviously not.

In the end, I walk away (backwards, so as to avoid lip-crack contact), and decide to deal with it when they’ve stopped wetting themselves.

And I do. With my $30,000 in acting training, I milk every sad moment and hurt feeling. And they have the grace to look ashamed.

Oh sure, I may have nothin’, but at least I can make my kids feel like crap. And isn’t that what motherhood is all about?

Many kisses to Marinka for letting me guest post today. When she asked me, I got bloggerflies in my stomach from the excitement. Yes, I’m a nerd.

One year ago ...

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{ 30 comments… read them below or add one }

January 19, 2011 at 12:36 am

Yes! Thank you, Shari, for saying what I thought but didn’t want to be a public dweeb about it and…ooops.

Anyway, I don’t think, and NO ONE else thinks you’re a public dweeb, but, yes to the bloggerflies in the stomach upon seeing an email from Marinka in the inbox and…I’ll just stop talking now.

Er…great post.


Lynn MacDonald (All Fooked Up) January 19, 2011 at 8:45 am

Hahaha…I must confess, my kids never did this! Cut I do know how it is when your kids realize you’re a cupcake and your threats are useless. I just ignored my kids and yet, they still don’t listen to me and they’re OLD now. Good luck. I can’t imagine why they’d want to kiss your butt! And, is your chestvreally concave?


Brandi Cortes January 19, 2011 at 8:55 am

Hahaaa! I’m so glad I’m not the only one who’s tush get’s assaulted on a regular basis by my children. Although, I rarely get kissed anymore: more often than not, it’s a head butt…like I’m a standing bounce house they just run into and spring right back off of. *sigh*

Thanks for the morning giggle. Heading to your site now. 😀


January 19, 2011 at 9:11 am

I usually love to have my ass kissed, but only metaphorically.

Funny stuff.


Victoria Rose January 19, 2011 at 9:19 am

My kiddos do the same frickin things… Well kissing butts and Smelling butts is the new one here! My 6 year old thinks we all have Stinky butts and smells…quiet disturbing… My kids push my limits all the time…see what they can get away with! I give them my *look and they either run or we all start laughing!! Great blog! Just got into reading blogs and I’m now addicted! 🙂


January 19, 2011 at 9:27 am

This is hilarious. My kids used to play “Smell My Diaper” with each other (only one of them was in diapers at the time). The game went exactly how you would imagine. I was the only one embarrassed by it. I think this is the definition of motherhood.


Maravonda January 19, 2011 at 9:30 am

I was rolling on the floor, laughing with the kids. This is why God never gave me grandchildren.


Kimberly January 19, 2011 at 10:45 am

Fart on them.


annie January 19, 2011 at 10:59 am

I love this! I so remember that moment when I realized I’m powerless…my solution…laugh with them. It’s so much better for my ulcers.
I think lip-crack contact is my new favorite phrase – thanks! hehehe


dusty earth mother January 19, 2011 at 11:04 am

A few answers to you kind commenters: Yes, I am a public dweeb. No, my bosom is not really concave, it’s more like the scenic drive through Illinois: flat and monotonous. Yes, my kids also played “Smell my Diaper” (how about that coincidence?!), yes, I plan to fart on them, and Wendi… I live for the day when they understand the metaphor and realize the joke was on them the whole time.


JK January 19, 2011 at 1:22 pm

Marinka, just wanted to say I hope your depression is truly “lite” and there’s nothing to worry about. If all you need is a break, I hope you’re enjoying it. You’ve chosen your guest bloggers well. I’m enjoying them, but I’ll be glad when you’re back.


Roxanne January 19, 2011 at 3:21 pm

I’m not sure what I prefer. The butt-kissing your children do, or the open mouth makeout sessions my 4 year old suddenly loves so much. Haha!


dusty earth mother January 19, 2011 at 3:48 pm

Make-out sessions with open mouth. Hmmm… good luck with that, Roxanne. Maybe an occasional lip on the tail isn’t so bad.


January 19, 2011 at 7:31 pm

my son finds it highly interesting to bite my butt.

marinka- i went to blogger event in october and my husband insisted on driving in case some of the bloggers tried to rape me or something.


tracey January 19, 2011 at 8:21 pm

And so it begins. It never ends….


Ann's Rants
January 19, 2011 at 9:26 pm

Great post. So funny. I love how humble you are Shari. EXPECIALLY as you do look just like Julianne Moore.

If you knew what went on with butts in this house you’d kiss your own butt in relief for what you have.



dusty earth mother January 19, 2011 at 9:52 pm

Now I’m intrigued, Ann. You know you can’t do a lead-in like that and leave me hanging. Anyway, give the Fur Bastard a kiss from his auntie S.


the mama bird diaries
January 19, 2011 at 11:00 pm

If we ever meet, I will not kiss your butt. I’m nice like that.


dusty earth mother January 19, 2011 at 11:23 pm

You’re a gentle soul, Kelcey.


January 19, 2011 at 11:15 pm

Oh my gosh, Shari, this is AWESOME! I’m literally rolling with laughter right now. You are so, SO funny!


dusty earth mother January 19, 2011 at 11:24 pm

xxoo, Mrs. M.


The Flying Chalupa
January 20, 2011 at 2:28 am

The first paragraph is stellar. Truly.

And also ‘concave bosom.’ The concavity has hit my chest like a ton of bricks. I know of what you speak.

Lastly, you’re right. We all got nothin’. And they know it.

Great job.


dusty earth mother January 20, 2011 at 9:19 am

Just so you know, I’m stealing “concavity”.


Lady Jennie January 20, 2011 at 7:25 am

Dusty, this is one of your best.


dusty earth mother January 20, 2011 at 9:19 am

Love you, Lady J.


January 20, 2011 at 10:23 am

May I suggest the “drunken teenager reverse psychology” trick: if your kids want to kiss your butt then make them do it for the 10 minutes, constantly, and then the next morning make them a breakfast of creamy eggs with cigarette ash…oh wait…maybe this last part only works on the “drunken” part above? Ok, make them down a fifth of Jack while kissing your butt, there that works! Good luck!


dusty earth mother January 20, 2011 at 12:19 pm

Definitely coming to a yummy morning meal at your house, Tonya.


January 20, 2011 at 12:39 pm

My son is obviously attending the same school as your children. He doesn’t watch TV, he does the butt-kiss thing and he knows I got nothin’. I have discovered though that if I even come near his Lego’s he loses his stuff! I suggest torturing with toys. And guilt. Guilt always works.


Jenners January 20, 2011 at 8:24 pm

Big Shari fan here! As usual, this is pure genius. Funny and true and full of practical advice (spend $30,000 on acting training so you can effectively make your children feel guilty.)

And I shall never ever take a restaurant mint again.


Jana @ An Attitude Adjustment
January 21, 2011 at 7:43 pm

Bloggerflies. Great word.

I feel for you here. I’m big on threats, but they don’t always work. For instance, if I threaten to take “shows” away (we prefer to say shows to make it sound a bit more intellectual than plain old TV), I am the one who suffers. Because then I have to play rather than escape to the dining room, behind my laptop.

This mothering thing is hard.

But you really need to perfect the eyes-as-lasers. I’m working on the voice-as-sword effect. Now that I’ve had child #2, I’m getting pretty good at it. It’s the kind of voice that makes me sound completely out of control. Scary for all of us.


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