Those were the words written on my Mother's Day card, an art project from my son's preschool class. "My mom is" was written by the teacher and my son had filled in the word "nice."
The card has sat on my desk ever since the Mother's Day Breakfast his school hosted for it's moms. Every time I look at it, I think "Really? This is what he thinks of me? That I'm nice?"
Don't get me wrong, I'm thrilled that my kid didn't say something embarrassing like the one mom who had to walk around with a "Mom is a... cougar" card. We'll never know if her son was referring to her fierceness or her preference in men.
But Nice? I'm nice?
For one, I yell. Like all the time. Part of it is my naturally loud voice that can often sound like I'm yelling when I've just raised my voice. Part of it is from growing up in a household where holding a conversation in two separate rooms is common - and requires everyone to shout. Part of it is because I'm a yeller. There, I said it. I'm not shouting curse words or saying mean things to my kid. But it is certainly easy for me to shout "GO GO GO" to get him in the car for school in the morning.
Plus, I'm not one of those totally rationale, always calm moms that I seem to see everywhere. Patience is my weakness; or rather, my lack of patience is a weakness. It's not uncommon for me to lose it. Not "somebody call CPS this mom is a lunatic" lose it, but "never talk to mom before she's had her morning cup of coffee" lose it.
But there I look at the card where my son has described me, above all else, as nice. I chuckled when I saw the card the first time and I still chuckle every time I see it. This morning, I asked my son what he meant by "My mom is... nice." He got quiet for a minute and then said
"You help me make my bed. And when I'm sick you stay home with me. And you smell good."
So there you go, I guess I am nice after all.
Original post for the Silicon Valley Mom's Blog
