This summer, while visiting some friends in Peterborough, I heard the story of the experiment involving baby monkeys. The monkeys were given a choice of a wire monkey that was hooked up to a milk supply and a plush one (I can’t remember if she was attached to a milk supply- hang on, maybe I should just use the good old interweb and not rely on hearsay-here seems to be a reliable enough source to describe the experiment: whyfiles) that was not. The baby monkey would drink from the wire one and then go hug the (correction) cloth one. In the conversation I had with my friend, the metaphor of the wire monkey had come to symbolise a mother who gave her children what they needed but in a harsher less pliable manner than most. I immediately related. This image was brought home to me a few weeks before commencing this blog when I was randomly browsing other mommy blogs and came across an entry that described this one mother’s horror at witnessing an impatient mother with her child in the bathroom. This particular blogger was appalled at how the mother was standing in front of the stall door, asking every two seconds, “are you done yet? come on, let’s go!” or something to that effect. The bloggermom was even more appalled to see the same mother with her daughter just leafing through magazines when she got out of the washroom.Well folks, I am ashamed to admit it (okay, not as ashamed as I should be) but that mommy is me. I am impatient. I don’t like to spend hours in the bathroom (and if it was up to my little one, that is exactly what we would do-hence the impatience). I can completely understand the mother who would rather be looking at magazines than watching a stall door.
I am a drill sergeant. I like things to be done when I ask them to be done. If they are not, the domino effect would occur and our lives would topple one unfinished task on top of another. I am deathly afraid of the chaos that would ensue so therefore I adopt a military attitude when it comes to potty breaks and snow suit wearing. So sue me.
And just to give a brief synopsis of the other traits that make me a wire monkey, for the sake of getting it out of the way once and for all. I am not that cuddly. I need my space. I tend to be very unsympathetic when it comes to nightmares and waking up in the middle of the night. To my utmost chagrin (and this is something I will write further about), I make my daughter cry almost everytime I try to help her with her homework.
Wow, I sound like a shrew but there you go. I guess you can’t be a wire monkey without a bit of shrewness…
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