I'm Not Bad. I'm Just Drawn That Way.

Last night was movie night. I got the pizza, popcorn, m-n-ms and movie. Husband forgot the wine, but I still managed to enjoy myself.

My boys, all three of them, and I settled in to watch Who Framed Roger Rabbit? I chose this cartoon because I'm sick of all those flicks about the baseball team where Hometown Hero overcomes incredible odds to win the game. I chose something different.

And we had a great time until this scene where Judge Doom began his transformation and, quite frankly, freaked my kids out.



They voted unanimously to never let Mommy rent a movie again.

"The Rookie never made them cry," Husband said.

Later that night, after the first two or three nightmares, it became quite clear that:

a) my brother lives on in the next generation, he was afraid of Sesame Street,
b) they get their pitching arm from me and their sensitive side from their father,
c) if I was going to get any sleep at all, I'd have to sleep with them.

So I did. Somewhere around 1am, I looked at my little boys as they slept peacefully and it occurred to me that some mothers would say, "Get over it, kids. Toughen up." Those women would go back to their bedroom with a clean conscience and, at the very least, get a good night's sleep.

Then I thought about my own mother.

I can remember freaking out after watching The Wizard of Oz and my mom let me sleep in her bed for a week or so. I was ten. And I turned out plenty tough.

So I kissed their cheeks and snuggled with my boys all night, continuing a tradition of nurturing strength instead of demanding it. Worked for my mom. Works for me.

Happy Mother's Day to us both.