PR Mama Loses Her Mind
Most of my posts lately have been more about the “PR” and less about the “Mama.” Gonna switch it up today.
My DeVries colleagues know of my blog crush on Jessica Gottlieb, an LA-based blogger who rose to fame (or infamy, depending on your POV) for helping bring down the Motrin “baby wearing” campaign last year. In case you were out of the country, under the proverbial rock or perhaps just enjoying an extended nap — here’s what went down. Reading Jessica’s blog (or tweets) is like talking to your funniest, coolest, balls-iest girlfriend — and every once in a while, when you least expect it, she throws in a post about her kids that just pierces your heart. Like this one. Just the image of her son reaching for her hand made me cry like a fool at my desk this morning.
Admittedly, I’m a little wacky in the head right now, just a smidge fragile. This swine flu stuff has my hair on fire. I tweeted and Facebook statused about it so much over the weekend that a good friend finally emailed me and told me to JUST. CALM. DOWN. She was right, of course, but holy fancy moses — it’s scary when people are dying and the media are working overtime to come up with the most alarming headlines and crawls possible…
So you can imagine how gracefully I handled this phone call from my husband yesterday:
ME (at office, in full-on PR Bitch mode): What?
The RUSSIAN (at home with son): I think Terry has a fever and-
ME (interrupting, tense): Call. Doctor. Right. Now.
The RUSSIAN (strident): But where is ibuprofen, I cannot to give him ibuprofen because you put things in strange place, why did you not to put ibuprofen in his cabinet-
ME (shrill): The ibuprofen is in the bathroom drawer with the extra toilet paper but screw the ibuprofen, CALL THE DOCTOR.
The RUSSIAN (losing command of English under stress) I already call doctor, I want now ibuprofen for to give to the Terry-
ME (experiencing psychotic break): JUSTGETTOTHEGODDAMNDOCTORWHYAREYOUSTANDINGTHERETERRYHASSWINEFLU!!!!!!
So, maybe not best handling of situation. Fast forward: son has fever but not the Swine/Mexican/Hybrid/H1N1 whatever it is Flu. Here’s my point: the thought of my boy suffering so much as a hangnail brings out the lioness in me — ok, a psychotic lioness. And reading Jessica’s post and imagining the whisper-soft brush of a little boy’s hand slipping into mine — my little boy, the one lying helplessly on the sofa right now with a fever and glassy eyes — took my breath away.
Motherhood is a form of insanity. Mine is, anyway. The blazing passion,the protective ferocity in my case gets channelled for the good towards my son, but god help the hapless Russian who strays into my path. My long-suffering husband is the collateral damage every time my maternal instinct detonates. This is not good, nor is it fair.
Mothers out there — especially mothers with sons — any thoughts on how to defuse the maternal love-bomb so dad doesn’t get wounded by its shrapnel?