Mean mom

The other day I heard Katherine's friend telling her: "Your Mom is Mean."


Two friends were over and Katherine and Caroline were playing with them at a neighbor's treehouse. The treehouse has a bucket on a pully that can be filled with various fun finds like rotten walnuts, plastic squishy frogs and soggy crayons and then raised up into the house. The owner does not like the bucket to be dropped hard. So after the bucket was dropped unceremoniously three times, landing with a loud bang, the girls were given a final warning: one more hard bucket drop and no more bucket.


The bucket came slamming down. I untied it. A moment later one of the friends appeared and began tying the rope back on the bucket. I asked her what she was doing and she said she was tying the bucket back on, she wanted to play with it. No. No more bucket. She disappeared into the tree house whereupon I heard her uttering the fateful M word.


An hour later I called all the girls to come back to the house for lunch and failed to get a response after fivecalls. I was frustrated. Yes, I raised my voice slightly and my tone indicated that Mean mom was back. All the girls exited the treehouse promptly at which point the same girl asked why I was yelling at her. I'm not yelling, I'm frustrated and speaking in a different tone, I said. When I ask you to come I expect you to come. I had to call for all of you five or six times! She looked perplexed. At what exactly I'm not sure. Me raising my voice? Me being frustrated that she hadn't come when I asked? Life in general?


Playdate politics. Parenting politics. Mean mom signing out....