Motherhood Comes Naturally (and Other Vicious Lies) Read Online Free Page B

costs. This isn’t a beach.
    6.  Hide-and-seek anywhere but home isn’t fun for mommy. Don’t even think about it.
    7.  There is no need to yell “LOOK AT ME!!!” every three seconds. I’m (half) watching. And if I miss that particular slide dismount, I’ll catch the next one.
    8.  Don’t ask me to play on the seesaw. I don’t need to be reminded that I weigh more than all of you combined.
    9.  Don’t tell me you are bored. I guarantee you’ll be more bored at home.
    10.  Don’t do anything that will result in an ER visit. Or we may never come back.

Lie #6
PARENTS WOULDN’T DREAM OF HURTING THEIR CHILDREN

    I have been spit on, smacked around, kicked until I was bruised, my hair pulled out. I need to come forward and speak out. I, too, am a victim of toddler abuse.
    â€”Scary Mommy Confession #253360
    O nce upon a time I was the mother to a single baby, and my life revolved around her and her alone. Mommy and Me classes. The library. The park. Baby ballet. My heart swelled with her little accomplishments and I could feel it breaking when she hurt in any way.
    When my precious sweetheart was around six months old or so, there was a story in the local news about a mother physically abusing her child. Those sort of stories pulled at my heartstrings before, but since becoming a mother, they made me physically ill. I was horrified and called my own mother in a complete outrage. What kind of mother could ever dream of causing harmto her precious offspring, I shouted. How could this be? And then my mother said something I’ll never forget. It was the moment that left me questioning everything I knew about her—as a mother, as a grandmother, and, frankly, as a human being.
    The only thing separating the women who do those awful things from those who don’t is impulse control . Everyone has the urge to hurt their children at some time or another; most people just have the intelligence and restraint to walk away.
    She could have told me that I was adopted and that Bill Cosby was my real father, and I would have been less shocked. Who was this woman, and did she really just admit to having the urge to harm me?
    My mom laughed at my horror and assured me that one day I would understand. But for the next two years, I was undeterred. Every time I recalled that conversation I felt a sense of pride that I still couldn’t relate to that feeling she warned me about. In my mind, it was just one more affirmation that I was a better mother. Obviously.
    And then Lily turned three.
    I’m not sure who coined the phrase “the terrible twos,” but they mustn’t have been a parent because two wasn’t all that terrible. Lily was sweet, easy, and totally welcoming to her new baby brother. Our days were a joy and the worst thing I ever wanted to do to her was dress her up as a flower and pretend to be Anne Geddes.
    Once she turned three, though, everything changed. I think it was around that time that I officially became a Scary Mommy. It was like a switch was flipped and my precious baby girl turned into Satan. And I became that mother I never imaginedI could be. The mother who could think about hurting her own child.
    The first time it happened, Lily was going on hour two of a tantrum over Lemon Heads. She wanted the entire box of candy, and I wouldn’t allow it. (Side note: Really, Lily?! Lemon heads? Candy isn’t worth getting cut over unless it’s filled with chocolate.) After fifteen minutes, I was ready to cave but held my ground on principle. She wailed like her life was ending and in the process, she woke her napping brother. Suddenly I had two screaming children; plus my husband was out of town and I hadn’t had adult interaction in three days. As she went on and on and on, I had a fleeting urge to throw her against the wall. Throw her against the wall! It was a terrifying feeling. I felt so out of control, so vulnerable. It