The "Terrible Mother" story

I was wondering if anyone would notice that I mentioned the "terrible mother" thing in my last title, and since some of you did, I'll tell the story.

It was our last day at the beach. Lou had taken the girls out to this huge waterslide on the beach, and I was back at the hotel hanging out while Edward napped. We had agreed to meet at a certain spot on the beach at about 12:30. When Edward woke up, I got us all ready (sunscreen, bathing suits and all that racket), packed some snacks and we headed outside to the beach. I couldn't carry all of our beach stuff, because I already had to carry Edward and my backpack. So, when Lou and the girls met us on the beach, he said he would go back to get our beach umbrella and towels and some other stuff while I reapplied the sunscreen to the girls. So that is the setting. I am on the beach with the three kids, and Lou is up in the hotel room gathering beach stuff.

Well, it just so happened that this afternoon Maria was deciding to be a pain in the butt (kids do this from time to time just to prove to you that you do NOT have perfect children, just in case you ever start to lose your humility and think that you do).

First she kicked sand in Josephine's face (whether it was on purpose or not? Who knows, because it's not like she would admit it if is was on purpose - she's not stupid).

Next she decided that a good place to dust off her sandy hands would be directly over the open container of fresh fruit that Josephine was snacking on. Sand-covered fruit - delicious.

Then, while I was putting on her sunscreen, she kept trying to walk off while I was putting it on, and whining and complaining that she didn't want to get sunscreen put on.

I don't know what had come over her, but my usually very helpful Maria was behaving like a 2-year-old, and it was driving me nuts. She was just being a pill, and since I was distracted by two other children, one who kept crying that her fruit was ruined and that there was still sand in her eyes, and one of whom kept wandering off (yes, that would be Edward), I was not handling it in the most patient way. Every couple of minutes I found myself yelling at Maria for something or other, and at the same time trying to call Edward back to us and keep him entertained while I put lotion on the girls so he wouldn't keep wandering off.

During all of this fiasco (or what many of you other mothers will call "just another day in the life"), I couldn't help but notice this middle aged woman nearby who appeared to be staring at us. At first I thought I was just being paranoid, but everytime I looked in her direction she was looking straight at us. "Gosh, she probably thinks I'm a basketcase with all the yelling I've been doing", I thought to myself, then decided that she probably was not even looking at us, it was probably just my imagination.

I finished up all the sunscreen (my least favorite part of the beach experience), and started playing around with the kids making sand castles, digging holes, etc. Lou showed up and we set up the blanket and umbrella.

Right about that point, the woman who I thought had been staring at us walked over to Lou and me.

"Have you two ever seen the show 'What Would You Do?' ", she asked us. I was kind of confused by this random question, and we answered that we had not. She told us that it was a show where cameras went around and filmed random instances of bad behavior in public to see if any bystanders would do anything to help/stop the situation.

"I actually think I may have heard of that show now that you describe it - why do you ask?" Lou says.

"Well", she says, "I don't know if you're aware, but I've been watching you since you got here, and do you know what I've heard?"
She then proceeded to imitate my voice:
"MARIA!!!" (she yelled her name in this shrill, high voice)
"Oh, Edgar" (she said his name in this sweet sing song voice, and I have no idea why she thought his name was Edgar)
"MARIA!!" (more shrill yelling)
"Oh Edgar" (more singsong cooing)
She repeated this mocking voice about two more times.
Then she took off her sunglasses and said "Lady, it is obvious that you are the stepmother", and turned around and walked off, feeling quite proud of herself for figuring me all out in a whopping 10 minutes.

So there you go. I am a terrible mother because I scolded my child when she misbehaved. I am such a terrible mother that bystanders think that I must not be their real mother - I must be the wicked stepmother - because a real mother never loses her patience with her children. She is always sweet and kind and has an unending reserve of patience for each and every one of them. A real mother, ie, a "good mother" never yells.

So that is my story of how I got called a terrible mother, or, to be more precise, a "wicked stepmother", at the beach. It's official - I'm a bad mom. Well, at least according to the pudgy middleaged lady at Virginia Beach.