Mom’s revenge is coming |

Mom’s revenge is coming

Christina M. Currie

I can’t wait until my children hit their teen years and I become the mother who embarrasses them.

I already can hear that frustrated, drawn out, double syllable.


I used to think I would be the cool mom. The one all other kids wished were theirs.

Now I know that my taste for revenge is too big.

Parents don’t embarrass their children because they’re out of touch or because they’re still bound to a value system that has evolved.

Parents embarrass their children for one reason: Payback.

My kids turn my face red and have me mumbling apologies more times than I can count.

They comment indiscriminately about a person’s weight, have no compunction about walking around with their hands in their pants and absolutely refuse — in public — to be the sweet children you tell everyone they are.

Katie looked quizzically at Grandpa Jerry, finally saying, “What’s wrong with your belly?”

No one else noticed anything amiss, but he was concerned enough to pull her back and ask, “What’s wrong with it?”

By that time, she’d moved on to other concerns and gave Grandpa no information and a slight complex.

What a doll.

But she really hit new heights last week. It was daddy’s turn to pick her up at preschool. He was standing with Katie behind “Clayton’s mommy.” Katie turned around, looked at Clayton’s mommy’s butt and reached up to give it a friendly rub. Then she ran to get her coat.

By the time Clayton’s mommy turned around, the only person standing there was Katie’s daddy, who had absolutely no idea what to say.

Neither did Clayton’s mommy.

When my nephew J.T. went up to his mother in a crowded restaurant and loudly announced “I farted,” she was so embarrassed that she looked at him and said, “You should go find your mommy,” and walked out to the car leaving her son and his father to order dinner on their own.

Ohhh, he’s in for it.

I’ll try to remember all the times Katie says “she’s got boobies!” when we’re in the grocery store or when Nikki kicks into a tantrum in a restaurant.

Then, when I hear “maaa-aaam!” I can say “Kaaaaatie! What’s wrong with your boobie?”

Yeah, that’ll get me the award.

Christina M. Currie can be reached at 824-7031 by e-mail at

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