The Bad Guy

Last night, I was checking my email after all of the kids had gone to bed. Matt was out returning an overdue movie to Blockbuster ALL THE WAY ACROSS TOWN. Suddenly, I heard footsteps in the hallway. "Mom?" It was Merrody. "What, Merr?" "What do you have to do if your ear grows over the back of your earring?"

At first, I actually questioned whether or not the back had fallen off. That's how grown-over the ear was. I weighed my options...

*Her ear had grown partially over hear earring backs before. I could just push it through as I had in the past.

*I could wait for Matt to get home and let him try some pseudo-medical-done-by-a-dentist procedure.

*I could take her to a doctor in the morning and let him take a needle to her ear and then a knife and then another needle to put a stitch in and then go back again to get the stitches out.

I am the Mom. It was my call to make. I decided that two minutes of me pushing it through was superior to the continued torment of either of the other two scenarios. I pushed. Merrody screamed. It was a long two minutes.

After the earring was removed and the ear was disinfected and wiped clean, Merrody started screaming for her Daddy. It reminded me of a time I hadn't thought of in over a year. A time when we spent the better part of 3 years struggling with Merrody's bowels. Another time when I was the bad guy. I was the one who had to administer the painful suppositories and medications and doctor-recommended home remedies. I was the one who had to hold her down on the toilet and make her go. She screamed for her Daddy then, too.

Sometimes motherhood isn't all it's cracked up to be. Moms are often the bad guys. We're the ones who drive the kids to get their shots and give them the foul-tasting medicines. We're the ones who enforce the no-tv-after-dinner rules and the do-your-chores-before-you-go-outside policies. We do the nagging about homework and teeth brushing and eating their vegetables. We insist that they re-do that sloppy homework and stick with it when they want to quit soccer. We wake them up when they're tired and dress them in church clothes and try, desperately to get them to sit reverently for all of sacrament meeting. We really do a lot of the unpleasant things in our kids lives. We say no the most of anyone.

But, as unpleasant as these things are, I wouldn't trust them to another soul on earth. My child's well-being is too important to be delegated out. And if that means that Merrody will cry for her Dad, so be it. But maybe it doesn't.

By the time Matt got home, Merrody was calmed down and tucked in. And, just before she fell asleep, she called for me.