Although I’m not the créme of the crop when it comes to motherhood, I do adore my children.
I focus on their needs, pay attention to their wants, and when they leave the house for the day, I routinely call out with a warm and heartfelt “Mommy loves!”
It’s not exactly Carol Brady, but then I don’t have an Alice hanging out and doing all of the real work.
It is my children’s contention, however, that if I loved them as much as I say that I love them, then I wouldn’t, and I quote, “space off” in their presence.
I never knew that I “spaced off.” Shoot, until about six months ago, I thought “spacing off” was simply something that NASA does when they launch a shuttle to the moon.
Turns out that “spacing off” is when a mother such as myself tunes her children out and mentally tunes something else in. She totally ignores the gripes and complaints and thinks about chocolate éclairs instead.
Yes, much to my children’s dismay, I am able to go into the zone. I have even perfected it to the point where I can “space off” and still keep up my end of the conversation with my children by routinely using three generic responses: “Why certainly,” “If you think so,” and the basic yet all-inclusive “You’ll have to ask your father.”
Take yesterday, for instance, when the two younger children were arguing over the prospect of the best basketball player in the NBA. Perhaps a better mother would have stayed the course, hung on every word and would not have mentally changed her channel.
By the time the children’s debate had escalated to the point that they felt the need to summon me as mediator, I had long since lost track of their conversation and was making a mental check list of ingredients that I could substitute for noodles so that I could whip up a casserole for supper.
“Are you listening to us?” one of them asked as he waved a hand in front of my face.
“Why certainly,” I responded without so much as blinking.
“Don’t you think that LeBron James is the best basketball player ever, Mom?” asked another.
“If you think so,” I responded as I stared straight ahead.
“Are you in there?” asked another child.
“I’m not sure, honey; you’ll have to ask your father.”
See how splendidly it works?
It’s not that I don’t care about the minute details of their lives. Truth be known, I am very interested in the fact that the hot dog buns at school were stale and that Tommy Baumberger was a ball hog at recess. It’s just that sometimes I’m preoccupied with things such as politics, taxes and the color of my nail polish.
Besides that, when I “space off,” I can tune out bouncing basketballs, loud arguments, and the sound of electronics being played at full volume. I can mentally leave any scenario that involves wrestling holds, fancy footwork and first downs. While a weaker mother might snap at a re-enactment of the battle of Bunker Hill being played out in the great room, I am able to leave the moment and take a mental tour of scenic Kenya via a ride on my brain train.
Aren’t you just green with envy?
Now, normally my “spacing off” isn’t that big of a deal. The kids will debate an item or two and throw a punch now and then, and if I’m not mentally front and center, then it’s certainly not the end of the world.
In fact, things were all fine and jimdandy until the other day when Charlie brought his little friend Parker home after school.As the little guys chitchatted at the kitchen counter about something that may have pertained to Newton’s Theory of Gravitational Pull or perhaps the benefits of Marshmallow Mateys vs. Choco Dunks, my mind left their conversation and went on to something as important as splitting the atom.
“Mrs. Clinch, are you in there?” Little Parker asked.
“I told you that she spaces off,” Charlie answered.
“Do you think she can hear me at all?”
“Probably not.”
“I wonder what she’ll say when we tell her that you left your homework at school.”
“I’m not sure,” Charlie said. “The last time I did that, she told me to go and tell some lady named Alice.”
Lori Clinch is the mother of four sons and the author of the book “Are We There Yet?” You can reach her at www.loriclinch. com.