This week’s guest blogger is Jody Robbins. Jody is a Calgary-based freelance writer and mother to three children (one husband, one dog, one daughter). Whether it’s luggage, time, or just life, she tends to cram as much as possible into small compartments. Follow her adventures on Twitter or on her blog, Travels with Baggage.
Just You Wait….
There’s a little tradition that goes on in our house every night after dinner. One parent has the glamorous job of doing dinner clean up, the other takes eight-year-old Eve upstairs to get ready for bed. And you know how this all pans out, don’t you? Mom gets stuck scrubbing pots while Dad and daughter get to play.
To be fair, I’m always given the option of getting Eve ready for bed. But after years of being a stay-at-home mom and collecting her after school, I’m content to let Dad have some QT. I know I’m always welcome to join in their bedtime ritual that typically involves wrestling and wedgies, but for one reason or another, I don’t. I used to think it was because their play was too rough for me. Now I know better.
It started out innocently enough. The dishes were done, I made my way upstairs, changed into comfy clothes (read: sweats and no bra), and jumped into the fray. I was tackled. I was pummeled with pillows. And yes, I received the obligatory wedgie. Then Dad escaped, leaving more room for maneuvers on the floor.
First I had Eve tied down in some version of a half nelson, then she rallied, slipping out from under my grip. Finally I had three of her limbs pinned. But it was no longer fun and games. She was upset and not because of my wrestling prowess. With her one free arm she swatted me away – my breasts to be exact.
“Get these udders out of my face,” she cried, as I lay crouched above her.
And that’s when the metamorphosis into my mother became complete. Not because I too now had saggy boobs, as was so blatantly pointed out, but because of my response:
Naturally, I don’t wrestle anymore. And I no longer wander around the house bra-less, much to everyone’s relief. But spouting off “just you wait,” comments? I’ll take droopy boobs for that license.
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Did you wrestle with your parents/relatives/kids?
Did anyone ever get injured, physically or verbally?
I use to wrestle with my two younger brother till they both got “bigger” then me and then I got tired of losing all the time…LOL
Now my wrestling fun is with my two kids. It doesn’t mater what going on we could be watching TV or just trying to get cleaned up. Out of the blue some one will starts it (It’s uselly me…LOL) and the three of us end up wrestling each other. When hubby home he stays out of it even if the kids call for help. We end up stopping when the the kids can’t breath anymore from me tickling them to much or the other way around…LOL Thankfully no one has gotten hurt to bad *Knock on wood* yet…LOL
I used to wrestle with my brother and dad at bedtime. It’s amazing he doesn’t have serious back problems because we would pummel him with our best wrestling body slams. I’m not surprised my mother wanted no part of that.
I didn’t, but my husband always did with both our kids. My son loved it when he was little, but as he got older, it got serious. He had learned well…too well…and when it got to the point that it was two men trying to take the other one down, they both decided it was time to let that little game go. My daughter liked it till she got boobs, then an errant elbow one day cured her of that forever. 🙂
Now that I’m not pregnant or have a new baby for the first time in 8 years, I can’t claim those reasons not to wrestle. So, getting roped in to those physical games more often. Just wrestled before bed last night and uttered the phrase: “Don’t stick your head in my bum – it’s so rude”. I mostly try to pawn this ritual off on the hubs.
I wrestled with my uncles the majority of the time when I was a child. It never did turn out well someone always got hurt. My favorite of all times though was when my mother chased me down, hogged tyed me and threw me out the door in winter. Obviously, I was being taught a lesson and I definately did learn it.
We always wrestled with our dad and yes, someone usually ended up getting hurt but it didn’t stop us from wrestling the next time.
I loved Jody’s “just you wait” one-liner!
Ha! I don’t have girls but that is totally something I would say.
After a particularly harrowing day of calls from school about my darling boy’s behavior, I pulled out the “just you wait.”
“Just you wait…. when you grow up I hope your child is as mouthy and disrespectful to your teachers as you are, and hurts your feelings the way all of these shenanigans hurt mine!”
He burst into tears. “Mom, no! Don’t curse me to have a kid like me!”
I have discovered his Achilles heel.
I had to stop going bra-less around the house a few years back. Now I wear a sleep bra, so at least there is some relief when I come home and strip out of my “grown up clothes.” I have never smacked any of my children in the face with a wayward tit, thankfully, but then again, I don’t normally wrestle with my kids.
Great line! And according to the Huffington Post, you don’t need to be so quick to put that bra back on: http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2013/04/11/women-bras-study-france-false-necessity_n_3062114.html?ncid=edlinkusaolp00000009