What is it? (And why I want to be a filial cannibal.)

Yep, it’s exactly what you think it is: eating one’s offspring.

Now, before you go getting your panties in a bunch, hear me out.

I have three wonderful, well-adjusted children; two boys, and the girl is in the middle.  The younger two are in their late twenties and my eldest is in his early thirties.  A mother couldn’t be prouder of her children.

My eldest son is married, lives a few blocks away and has a beautiful eight-year-old daughter.  Notice how I didn’t call her my granddaughter?  We’ll get to that.

My youngest two are thirteen months apart.  Trust me, when I say it was like having twins with those two, it was worse than that.  They did everything together.  And I mean everything.  From talking, walking, bathing, eating, playing; it was a double nightmare!

To this day, they still fight and argue like a couple of toddlers fighting over whose turn it is on the swing.

All three of my kids hold good jobs.  The eldest has his own business. My daughter has worked as a Vet-Tech for over ten years and my youngest is studying to be an electrician while working for the same electrical company for over 2 years.

Proud.  As a peacock.

Till they open their mouths to Mom.
I swear they think I’m an idiot.

I’m in my mid-fifties. I have studied three different career paths, seen a little of the world, gone through two marriages (one extremely violent and abusive), ran my own companies, have gone back to college for the third time and started my own business again, and I’m an idiot!

Let’s not forget that I’m the one who taught them how to eat with utensils, tie their shoes and become a functioning member of society.

There are some days I wish I could shove all three of them back up the birth canal and let them “cook” for a little longer – not all at once of course!

In my head, it would go something like this:

The eldest goes first: “Wanna marry a controlling bitch, do ya?  Wanna let her have a leash on you like a dog?  Not invite me to my own granddaughter’s birthday party and then tell me that I’m the one being childish?  Still think you’re a grown-ass man.  Did you forget who your mother is?  Boy, I brought you into this world and if you don’t start growing some real balls on you, you ain’t coming out!  You hear me?”

Ahh, if only…

Then, there’s my girl-child.  (Yes, that is my loving name for her, with a hint of sarcasm I alone know.)  “When are you going to get it through that thick skull of yours that there is no Prince Charming?  And you certainly ain’t finding him on Tinder!  What the fuck is wrong with you?!  You wear that S.A.S.S.I. tattoo for a reason.  I taught you that.  Need a reminder?  S.A.S.S.I. stands for Strong, Assertive, Smart, Sexy, Independent.  I taught you that motto back in Girl Scouts, especially the Independent part.  We don’t need to rely on no man.  Get your shit together, girl!”

Then there’s my favorite child.  Oh, please, we all have a favorite child.  If you don’t have one when they’re younger, you will when they get older.  But even he needs to be shoved back up there from time to time.

“Boy, I swear to God, if you mention me getting a job one more time, I will blow my top with you!  I will unleash the Mom-Beast on you like you’ve never seen before!  I’m not explaining to you or anyone else the choices I make for me.  I will make it. I will pursue MY passions.  I will prove to you that I can and will do this, MY WAY!”

“As for you working on cars on the side of MY house, I understand that you’re trying to make a little extra money, but son, there are days I wish you had your own home and your own place to work and entertain your friends.  When I write, it’s not a 9-5 job.  Sometimes ideas come to me in the middle of the night, sometimes they are on the weekends.  I like my peace and quiet.  Now, get a life, get a place of your own, or get a fuckin girlfriend, but at least have some respect for your Mother and her home!”

That’s just a small sample of the many times I wish I could have “eaten” my children when they were younger.

If I knew then…

When I started doing research on animal cannibalism, it was abundantly clear why some mothers eat their young: sickness, weakness, disease.  Did you know that there are animals out there where the stronger sibling will kill the weaker sibling while the parents watch?

I’m not condoning this behavior.  I believe that those mothers out there that kill and murder their children deserve a special place in hell.

That’s not what I’m talking about here.

Too old for Corporal Punishment?

There are times when I really want to just smack my kids upside the head like I did when they were smaller.  Just to knock some sense into them.

Instead, I have my little fantasies, go on with my life and let them live theirs.  After all, you can only hold their hands crossing the street for so long, till they think they can do it by themselves.

They are all at the age that they know everything.  They know what they’re doing.  They know ALL about life.  They’ve got all the answers.  They’re smart and I’m dumb.

Some days, I just sit back and wait for the big truck to come by and hit them.  The proverbial slap upside the head.  Oh, it will happen.  Trust me.  I’ve seen it.  And who will be there to wipe away the tears, pick up the broken pieces, and make a pact with the devil to hurt the person who hurt my baby?

Mom.  Always Mom.  Not Dad. Mom.

For all you young mothers out there with your breastfeeding issues, setting up the little playdates, getting ready for school, the temper tantrums, the trying to get the kids to eat, the first dance, first period, first date, first prom, first boyfriend, first broken heart, heed my warning:

You ain’t seen nothin’ yet!

You think your little rug rats are giving you issues now?

Some days I just want to yell, “You ungrateful little bastards!”

Maternal Instincts

And what happens when I see them?  I melt.  I become Mom again; that woman that held them while they slept, that cradled them when they were sick, covered their boo-boo’s and took them to the hospital for the umpteenth time for stitches.  As I look at them now, they are still my babies and I will always be Mom, no matter what age, and no matter what they think of me now.

As much as I may say I want to “eat” my young, I will forever defend them.  I will forever teach them.  I will forever love them.

“There’s no way I could have even come close to being like this as a young adult, Mom.  After all, I had my first child at twenty-three.”

“Oh, honey, put on a pot of coffee.  It’s going to be a long night.”


Christine is a Freelance Writer, Content Writer and Small Business Strategist with a flair for seeing the positive and humorous side of any situation.  When she’s not working on her personal blog, www.sunnysideovereasy.com, you can find her helping small businesses at www.writersalamode.com.


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