With the joyful carefree bike riding days of Spring finally here it’s time for me to come clean. Today I’m sharing a deep and dark McKenzie family secret. I am not perfect mommy. Ouch. Yes my two children have witnessed more than their fair share of their dear mother teetering dangerously close to Joan Crawford land. That of the wickedly evil mommy dearest.
Fortunately unlike dear Joan I don’t get physically abusive when I’m totally beyond it. I simply shout. Loudly. In addition to the inevitable flying spit I spew unchecked venom. Of course I know better. I work hard at remaining calm and being patient. Most times I am. But. Sometimes. I. Simply. Just. Can’t.
Brace yourself kids. It’s gonna get ugly.
In the interests of brevity I won’t dwell on the vast number of things that can cause me to launch into horrid mommy mode. Let’s just examine two key triggers for this extraordinary transformation.
Bike Riding and Intentional Foolishness
Put those scenarios into one neat little package and you’ve got the perfect storm.
I should explain first off that we live on a long, steep hill. Even after my two became bike proficient there was no way we could do it here. We had to drive to get to prime bike riding terrain. Fine. I set about to acquire the world’s most awkward bike rack. Shaped like a capital T it took one normal adult or three children to carry it up the back steps to the car. Our family consists of neither. Manoeuvring this damn contraption always resulted in at least one deep contusion or bloody scrape before I wrestled it out of the storage room. It didn’t like me or my children. Needless to say my blood pressure had started to elevate by the time it reached the car.
Did I mention the bike rack only took two bikes and we had three? Excellent. This meant the third bike had to go into the car before the others were attached. Something we always forgot. By the time everything was sorted it was as if we were breeding tires.
Dear Mommy’s blood pressure had ramped up a good ten more points.
Got the picture of my mental state as the bikes were finally properly stowed and I got behind the wheel? Perfect. Let’s visit just one of the Just typiKel McKenzie bike riding and intentional foolishness nightmares.
Mommy Dearest
My late father-in-law was a huge fan of fish fertilizer. Our backyard garden could always do with a boost so naturally he kept us well stocked. With the world’s largest bottles. This particular morning I hurled a glug of it at the floundering sweet peas and struggling rhubarb and then asked my son to carefully restow it under the back stairs.
Naturally, our golden retriever Golden Boy Oscar was soon prancing about the yard with the jug dangling from his salivating jaws; the contents winging about randomly. He’d somehow discovered it and chewed off the lid. Already primed because of the impending bike rack retrieval I shrieked at my lad to rescue the bottle.
It was time to load the car. I needed to shake off that simmering anger brought on by my son’s careless storage of the fertilizer. Fortunately we’d reach the age when my two could assist.
It was a blessedly easy bike rack and bike retrieval morning. One minor shin scrape later my little mister had wrangled his bike into the back and I had strapped my daughter’s and mine to the outside. We were ready to go. Our destination for today’s outing was one of our favourites. Just 20 minutes away, it wound through a tree-lined paved path and culminated at a beachside park. The best part? It had a huge parking lot at the beginning. Lots of room to heft off the bikes and get off to a good peddling start.
It was a warm morning so I cranked open the windows. My ten year-old son and eleven year-old daughter were decidedly mute in the backseat. This wasn’t unusual on bike ride days. Well aware of my stratospheric blood pressure post bike stowage they often kept quiet until mommy had gotten several soothing radio tunes under her bike chains.
Yuck. What was that stench? Something nasty. I rolled up the windows. We needn’t be inflicted with that thank you very much. But. Wait. With the windows sealed up it … intensified … most discernibly. The smell was now beyond pungent. It packed the punch of a crate of full and opened tuna tins left outside. Exposed to the frying heat of the sun. Nothing but full on fish. Inside the car. Sweet Jesus. I pulled over half way up the lane.
Molten anger threatened. I turned around slowly. Both helmeted children had their sweatshirts hiked up firmly over their noses. I could only see their eyes. My son’s pants were splattered with multiple droplets of brown. But the drops didn’t end there. No. They glistened from the ceiling, they winked from the headrests and they oozed from the bike tires.
Nooo. That f**king fish fertilizer! I could disinfect his pants (three washes should do it) but the inside of the car would require both intensive scrubbing and endless airing. It’d be redolent for months. No one would agree to hitch a ride with us for a very long time. If ever.
My daughter rushed to place blame. I could just make out her muffled words.
“He was making fish fertilizer patterns in the sidewalk, Mom. With his bike. I told him not to. But he wouldn’t listen.”
This fetid hell, virtually impossible to eradicate, was intentional?
It was a good thing those windows were still up.
But enough about me and my unfortunate mommy dearest habit. I’m curious about you. Do you share a similar secret? Do you slip into horrid parent mode every now and then? If so, what are your triggers? Or are you always perfectly mindful and a wonderful role model? If you’d care to share, I’d love to hear.
38 Responses
Ah, perfect! My husband has been walking around tonight searching out the source of the pungent odor wafting through our house. It smells like both fish and rotten milk and yet all the wee babes are angelically sleeping in their beds. Your post made me laugh. FIsh fertilizer? I shudder to consider… (Happy mother’s day. Hope it doesn’t stink. 😉 )
Seriously? That is hilarious. Sorry but it is. I do hope he finds the source and it’s an innocent one off. Happy Mother’s Day to you too. May it be odour free for us both!
I truly can’t even imagine how bad that had to smell and had already felt for you even before you got to that part of the story. Seriously the things we moms endure, god help us! Happy Mother’s Day Kelly and truly hope you don’t have any fish to deal with on this one at all 😉
Happy Mother’s Day to you too Janine! May we all have a pleasant, carefree day.
From “soothing radio tunes under her bike chains” to “molten anger stirring in your toes” – ooooh I feel your pain! So how long did the smell last? Or is it still ongoing? I remember my dad spill kerosine in the car and then trying to clean out the smell with bleach. I can still smell that from 1983! Yuck! I can imagine your “lividness” would be to the level of what his was when we left crayons in the back window of the NEW car. And yeah they melted.
Thankfully the smell finally wafted away Kenya. It took a long time though and I’m sure I could still detect it on wet rainy days. So pleasant mixed in with the damp dog smell. Kerosene would be nasty too! Bit like constantly camping out or living next to the train tracks. The scent of the wooden boards they place the rails on remind me of kerosene. Oh I’ll bet you guys were popular when dad discovered the melted crayons!!!
I am not perfectly mindful – nor am I a role model! You are brave, I don’t have the guts to post my Mommie Dearest moments. I can’t believe you didn’t have to sell the car! In college I forgot I had left my lunch in the trunk of my car (tuna fish sandwich) and the smell was putrid! I don’t know how long it was there before I found it. I waited tables at a busy restaurant and we got free valet parking – the valets refused to park my car, it smelled so bad. The blue bomber never did fully recover.
Hahahaha! Love this confession Allie. THe valets refused to park your car? Oh yes I can relate. I got funny looks from the oil change guys when I brought fish car in. Nobody said anything but you could see them thinking “let’s just do her car quickly and get her the hell out of here!”
Oh Kelly! Ok I’m totally not laughing at your pain but you told this in such a funny way! And I can just imagine that horrible, awful smell! Did you get the stench out of the car? Did you still go on your bike ride?
Wishing you a very very happy Mother’s Day, friend! I hope your weekend is peaceful, and that nobody messes around in the fish fertilizer.
We did go for the bike ride and folks kept a wide berth let me tell you. The stench did finally dissapate but it took a long time. We got help from febreeze … Thanks for your kind wishes. We know longer keep fish fertilizer on the premises. It’s Miracle Gro all the way now thank you very much. A very Happy Mother’s Day to you too Kristi.
Now I have promised you the poo on the wall story, that certainly produced a meltdown, and I mean physically on my knees, head on the ground, please someone transport me somewhere else moment. I will spare you all those gory details. I have to say I am proud of the way I happily belt out a tune in the car and when possible a few hand movements to go with it, Miss 9 is not impressed. Seems I have become embarrassing, no longer cool. needless to say I am not deterred. Happy fabulous Mothers day
Keep on belting out those tunes! If I had a dollar for the eye rolls I’ve generated between my two I’d be a wealthy, wealthy woman. “Mom please stop.” is a constant. I wish you a splendidly fabulous Happy Mothers Day Karen. May our walls be pristine from here on in!
Every time I read your posts, I have a British accent in my head (you are British right?)…which makes this whole thing even funnier. If you are not British it’s too late, you will now have this voice when I read. Anyways, my first question…who thought of making fish fertilizer? I have no idea that even existed, I can only imagine what is smells like! EW! Funny stuff, loved it 🙂
SO funny you’d say I’m British. Both sets of grandparents were and we grew up amongst three of them. Whenever my siblings and I get together we inevitably fall into an English accent. Can’t help it. Just do. As to the thought of who made fish fertilizer – great point. If you EVER find out let me know and I’ll give them a piece of my mind. May you NEVER find out what it smells like. It’s horrid. Horrid.
Wonderful imagery — so pungent! This is the stuff of family legend. “Do you remember that time when we spread fish fertilizer all over the car…” hahaha! (yeah, I know, not at all funny at the time, but from a distance it is pretty funny as you wrote it!)
Absolutely legendary in our family. You are so right. I have a photo of my two sitting in the backseat with their sweatshirts yanked up to their eyes. Even though I was livid I grabbed my camera. Man alive – it’s a wonder my two turned out ok with me as their mom.
I’ve had some bad smells in my car before, but I must say fish fertilizer is a new one for me. My trigger is the crap all over the floor – books, clothes, shoes – at the end of the day when I survey my home and see it covered in stuff, I lose it. Hopefully my kids will clean up before Sunday, but I doubt it. Happy Mother’s Day Kelly!
Oh yes the crap all over the floor is a delight. I’m happily past that now in most rooms – with the exception of their bedrooms. Oh my. Those rooms look as if a bomb has gone off. Do hope yours manage to pull a Mary Poppins by Sunday. Happy Mother’s Day to you Dana!
You crack me up, Kelly! I am laughing out loud at the f***ing fish fertilizer! And I am SO glad that you– a mother I truly respect– sometimes lose your cool, too. 🙂
Why thank you Stephanie. Yup I do lose it too. Folks ask why I didn’t when my son left the rabbit behind on vacation and we had to go back and get her. I suspect it was because had I started I’d never have stopped. Would still be hollering…
Why do bike pedals always scrape the shins? Always! We live on a hill too – with a pathway through to the valley – but for me it wasn’t bikes that raised my blood pressure but go-karts – the number of times they almost ended up down in the valley. And sledging there too – a nightmare! Anyway, I simmer gently …. they usually get the message !
Go-karts and sledges – yikes. That is something that would so appeal to my two – especially my son. Any go-karting here is thankfully done on an enclosed track. I admire your ability to simmer. I too can simmer but every once and a while I’m pushed to the boiling point and whoa boys watch out!
They will grow up and move away. And then they’ll have kids who play with odiferous things and make them crazy. They will complain about them to you and you will laugh, an evil deep grandmother cackle. Because you don’t have to clean it up.
So looking forward to those days Susan. You have no idea. Hang on – I suspect you actually do! I shall commence practicing my evil deep grandmother cackle. Hopefully we are years away from its use but one can’t start too early …
Those days are already here for me, Kelly–and they are delicious… I have grown to near goddess stature in my son’s eyes now that he’s a daddy.
Oohhh how delightfully wonderful to hear. Well done you. I’ll put in my pedestal order very soon.
Couldn’t Oscar have cleaned out the car for you? That’s what dog tongues are for — cleaning up disgusting yet edible messes. Though I suppose it wouldn’t have done much for the lingering smell…
Oh Harmony you should have seen our dear golden boy every time he got inside fish car. I needn’t have walked him during that smelly period. He was in such a state of high excitement. Every. Single. Time. “Where is it this delicious smelling treat? I know it’s hear somewhere. Where is it?” Could have used you to communicate with the dear lad to explain that while it still smelled it was sadly gone…
Oh, but he wouldn’t have cared if anyone told him it was gone! He would have just kept on hoping and hunting and sniffing, and occasionally uncovering the merest speck of food, undetectable to the human eye. Because that’s what dogs have done for centuries, and will do forever and ever and ever…
Bless you Harmony. You have effectively put me at ease. The idea of him carrying on regardless is perfect. And so very Oscar – our lad tended to be a little bit thicker than thick. Miss him dearly.
If we are all honest….I’m sure every MOMMY on the planet has had a least one mommy dearest moment. One of my ‘mommy dearest moments’ was when my son found my fabric paint (which I mistakenly thought I had hidden away in a closet) and proceeded to ‘create art’ on his brand new wall to wall carpet in our brand new built and just moved into home! Yeah…it was a freak out! Good news was he had confined it to a spot under his bed and I was able to take some scissors and “clip off ” the worst of it…as least he didn’t rub it into the carpet! Next day, hubby installed a lock on the ‘art supply’ closet!
Oh Debbie I do love this. You must have been livid. However I am impressed that he kept it contained to under the bed. Smart wee lad. We had a similar instance with dobbers – those thick ink jobbies that stamp colour everywhere. I could have used your husband’s installation abilities. Instead I buried the remaining dobbers in the linen cupboard. Think they’re still in there …
Yes, I do, sometimes. Especially when my children are about to hurt themselves/eachother. Something takes over. We’ve all been there. And at least you didn’t chase your children with a wire hanger, am I right??
You’re right – I don’t recall chasing my two with a wire hanger. However, I sometimes go into “mommy edit” mode. We’ll have to ask them.
Too funny Kelly, I can’t imagine how bad that must have smelled ! Wishing you a wonderful, restful, odour free Mothers Day !
It was putrid Jane. Putrid. Wishing you a wonderful Mother’s Day too! Off to check out those pics of K.
Fish fertilizer? The name alone says it all…yikes! And I can definitely relate to bike rack woes. We have a rack that holds 5 bikes and we only use it in the summer when we go on vacation. My husband is the one that loads all the bikes and by the time he’s finished, he is profusely sweating AND swearing! Hope you have a fish-less Mother’s Day! 🙂
Oh Emily I can so relate. Five bikes? Whoa. Bring on the sweats and swears. Thank you for that – am feeling marginally better. Wishing you a very Happy Mother’s Day yourself!