Where the Wild Moms Are

I consider myself very blessed to have been raised in an atmosphere of acceptance and tolerance: religious tolerance, acceptance of different sexual orientations, and an open-mindedness of other races and cultures. These things were taught to me at home. I am pretty sure that I didn’t learn them in school. Of course, I can’t be entirely sure. Elementary school was a very long time ago, and mostly I remember recess and snack time. Since my darling Jenda has recently started kindergarten, I am reaching back into the deep cobwebs of childhood memories to share my learning with her. Of course, some lessons have to be learned on the job as a mother, and I won’t be able to make Jenda understand them until she is older. Nonetheless, she is the recipient of my constant attempts at training. Allow me to explain.


While I am a Christian, I accept the fact that there are some cultures and religions who believe that we have ‘Spirit Guides.’ In my religion, I guess they could be called angels. In other religions, people feel that they have animal guides. If I were part of any of these religions, I would probably be a sloth. Anyway, I have long heard tales about how some mothers in the wild devour their young. Okay, so Mary didn’t eat Jesus, although she probably took communion…wait, now I am confused. The fact is that while I love and adore my daughter, there are times when I feel like I could channel my inner wild animal and eat her up. Take, for example, the time I took her with me to Kohl’s department store. There we were in the fitting room and I was pretending to be a size 8. Okay, a 14. Anyway, Jenda said, loudly, “Mommy, we can’t buy ice cream anymore.”

Why on earth not?


“’Cause you got chunky butt!”

Then, from the other fitting rooms, I heard ‘giggle, giggle, giggle!’


Bitches!

Then, I channeled my inner lioness and imagined myself, all fur and fangs, eating my own child. CHOMP, SMACK, BURP!


Many times since then I have imagined my inner lioness. I have chosen the lioness because she is the huntress, and being the female, the keeper of the pride. For all you unguided spirits, a group of lions is called a pride. So anyway, I have decided that my inner animal spirit guide is a lioness. Can’t you just see it now? Two baby lion cubs prancing around in the veldt behind their mother, who, frankly, has had enough crap from the kids.

“Look. Mommy shouldn’t have killed that wildebeest. She has chunky butt!”


Without a sound, with no warning, CHOMP, SMACK, BURP!

No more stupid butt jokes! It’s very effective. I love my inner lioness! Yum!


Of course there are times when, as a mother (maybe as a father, I’m not sure), you have to reexamine your spiritual side. In my case, it happened innocently enough. It always does. At any rate, I was laying on the couch after a hard day of hunting, gathering, and growling at the rest of the herd, uh, pride. I needed a break, so I let Jerry and Jenda have free reign of the jungle that we call the living room. Since I am still on an HGTV moratorium, I let the other lions decide what to watch. Big mistake on my part, as they found some show on Animal Planet about the various creatures who inhabit the various continents and their lives and animal habits. In truth, I was ignoring it until they got to Africa and the pride of lions. It’s all fun and games until someone decides it’s time to eat.

The people at Animal Planet filmed a pride of lions doing their thing. Basically, in the pride, the male, Mr. Lion, sits on his lazy ass roaring every once in a while, while the females, the lionesses, hunt, gather, raise the kids, kind of like how it is with some human families. (Mine.) So a herd of elephants go thundering by, and the lionesses stop gossiping about their husbands long enough to realize that one of the elephants isn’t lumbering quite so fast as the rest of the herd. And that’s when they seized their opportunity.


As the lionesses were taking down this poor, hapless elephant, I mentioned to Jerry that maybe it wasn’t such a good idea for Jenda to see this. It actually wasn’t a good idea for ME to see it, as it was rather disturbing. And that’s when Jenda piped up, “It’s nature, Mommy. That elephant is old and slow, and the lions have to eat!”

Oh, Jeebus, old and slow! There’s my cue to leave!! I appreciate the fact that Jenda is okay with nature and the food chain and cross pollination and other nature grodiness, but I just can’t take it. In that instant, my inner lioness changed into a domesticated feline card carrying vegan.
“Hey, lioness….we’re taking down a wildebeest. Want to join us for some raw meat?”


No, thanks. I’m having the jungle salad bar with a side of tall grass. I need the fiber.

At that point, I left the room, ignoring the sounds of the TV, Jerry, and Jenda. After it was over, Jenda came into the office to fill me in on what I had missed. “Mommy, they were all eating, and then they went and sat on this big rock, and all the lions had on pink lipstick. Jerry was going to tell her it was elephant blood. I just told her yes it was lipstick and they were a gay pride. At any rate, I am happy that Jenda understands the circle of life and can deal with it in a mature way. But I still remind her that mothers in the wild don’t put up with any nonsense and won’t hesitate to eat their own offspring if they act ugly in Walmart.


Why do you think a group of crows is called a murder?