Jordana’s Blog: Humility, Thy Name Is Motherhood

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(credit: CBS) Jordana Green
Jordana Green has spent her career bringing you the news, and more...
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MINNEAPOLIS (WCCO) — So, I’m in the Target checkout line with my youngest, my sweet, angelic, perfect, Ruby. I say, “Ruby, say thank you to the Target lady, her name is Trish.” Ruby deadpans, “Your name sounds like trash.” I turn ruby-red, apologize profusely, and slink out of Target. OMG!

Humility thy name is Motherhood.

This is not the first, nor will it be the last time my children embarrass me with what comes out of their mouth, and I know you’ve been there. It’s particularly dangerous this time of year around the holidays.

Here’s a classic: My son Maddox to his great-grandmother, ”Grammy, how old are you?” Grammy, “91.” Maddox, “Oh, I’m going to miss you when you die.”

(I can hear you gasping.)

Thank goodness her hearing aids weren’t turned up, but she probably would have laughed anyway. I have a journal I keep to jot down outrageous things they say. No one would believe me if it weren’t documented. The kids love to bring this out among close friends and family to crack up at their own silliness. So after a few blogs about meltdowns, torturous holidays, and divorce, it’s time to laugh together, and hey, you’re like family.

Much of this journal is about my sons’ genitalia, so that omits pages 7-36 but the rest is cleaner… a little.

At a wedding gown fitting for our nanny, Maddox says to the bride to be, “Can I touch your nipples?” (Remember I said it was only a little cleaner.) This sent the seamstress running for her sewing room and my son received his first rejection from a female. Lesson learned.

After smelling his dad’s vodka drink, “This smells like my pre-school teacher!” (We transferred him the next day.)

In the elevator upon witnessing a Muslim woman in a Burka, “Ohhh, a bad guy!” (My apologies to the Muslim community.)

In an interview with a prospective new nanny… Nanny, “So what do you kids like to do?” My oldest, Marley, responds, “I like to molest my baby sister.” (Thinking ‘molest’ was kiss a lot.) That nanny did not take the job, and our family has been blackballed by every nanny agency in the upper Midwest.

Marley, “If I ever get a step dad, he better have a lot of cash.” (I did not argue with this one.)

Maddox to a man I was dating, “Do you like boobs? I really love boobs.” (We are no longer dating.)

Ruby while snuggling in my bed, “Mom, I’m going commando.” (Upon further review, she was.)

Marley to her Nana (who is wearing a black and white shirt), “Mom, Nana looks like a cow.” (Marley’s out of Nana’s will.)

My journal also includes many, sweet, (“Mom, I want to be your son forever.”) mean, (“Mom, I hate you.”) and humbling (“I’m so glad I have this family.”) comments. It makes us laugh and cry (happy tears) every time we read it or add to it. Their grandparents and father always call me when the kids say something hysterical so it gets written down in our storied family journal for posterity. The momentary verbal humiliation is unifying for those who share our DNA. It’s also a good written history for their future therapists.

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