How to Ruin Your Children

Many moms I know worry about "ruining" their children. They joke about starting a therapy fund and confess fears they probably haven't even shared with their husbands.

As friends, we reassure each other with comments like, "Oh, you're not bossy. You're efficient." or "So what if you're sometimes dramatic, you make life fun. Your kids know you love them and they're happy."

Most of the moms I've had these conversations with love their children fiercely and provide a constant home base of acceptance and security. Even adult children know that Mom's arms and ears are open if needed. These women are far from ruining their kids.

I however, am actually ruining Benjamin and here is the photographic evidence:


Ben being ruined.


That's right, Ben is roller skating... pantless. It's bad enough I let him roller skate every day like this is 1978, but letting him do it without pants is unconscionable. Adding insult to injury, instead of rectifying the situation (I'm totally capable of putting pants on him), I photograph him instead.

He's probably going to end up like this:

Ben's unavoidable future.

Ben decided he loved roller skating at SG's birthday party. He tore up the floor and even made it to the final round of the limbo. (I like to think his height advantage was offset by the fact that it was his first time skating.)

Ben's first time on skates.

He loved it so much, he found a picture of roller skates in a book (a funny Mickey Mouse book from the 80s book my mom gave to me) and said, "Bean keet! Bean keet!" probably 100 times. He'd pull out this book, shove his stockinged foot in my face and beg to skate.

So, one Saturday morning, I sent Ben and Chuck to Toys R Us with $100 in birthday/Christmas money. I gave Chuck a very detailed list of what he was supposed to buy:

1. Roller skates
2. T-ball tee
3. Sippy cups that look exactly like this (sent actual cup)

Chuck asked, "Do you want me to spend all the money?"

I resisted saying, "Please give me one example where I would say, "Chuck, it is imperative that you spend all of this money!"

Instead I respectfully said, "Well, there's no need to try to spend..."

"Ok, we'll spend ALL the money!" Sometimes I don't even know why I bother talking to Chuck, he's clearly not listening.

So off Chuck and Ben went to the toy store. I wish I could have seen them shopping. I imagine it included at least seven full laps of the store, Ben asking for things by picking them up and yelling, "Bean! Bean! Bean!" I also hope Ben called Chuck, "Daddy Chuck" which he sometimes does. I'm sure it took at least and hour and a half and was general chaos.

Then they came home with their loot: skates, a T-ball stand, hockey sticks and binkies... and Ben proceeds to ask to roller skate every moment of every day. At 6:15 in the morning, I get him out of his bed and he says, "Bean keet." When we're driving home, when I'm laying him down for a nap, when he wakes up from his nap. He wouldn't even take his skates off to eat dinner.

He always wants to skate and that's how this picture happened. Every single day, we have lunch and play for about 15 minutes while he poops. I take his pants off to change his diaper and leave them off for his nap. (I always ask and he always says, "Off.") Then he woke up, anxious to skate. Rather than wrestle him into pants, then shoes, then skates, I simply put his shoes and skates on.

And then I realized what I'd done.

Then I laughed at him.

Then I photographed him.

I wish I could say this is my only indiscretion, but it isn't. I am notorious for dressing Ben badly and then laughing at him. You can find evidence here.

So Benjamin, when you're older and reading this thinking, "This explains everything! Mom is the reason I (fill in whatever you'd like to blame on me here)," just know three things.

1. You're probably right. I did ruin you.
2. But I do love you very much.
3. And no, I did not start a therapy fund for you. You're on your own like the rest of us.