Family: Drinking, smoking, swearing – as a mother, can I still do that?

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Drinking, smoking, swearing – can I still do that as a mother?

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Do we harm the little ones when we say “shit”? Or are they not the perfect role models? Our author believes that we don’t take everything so seriously. They’ll cope with it.

by Viola Kaiser

“Your grandpa used to smoke in the front of the car while I was sitting and singing in the back without a child seat and seatbelt,” my father likes to say. “Back then, red lights were more likely to be run over,” he adds with a laugh. In fact, fortunately he is still alive – and that’s why he got me. Not that I think it’s right to smoke six-year-olds in the car without a safety device, but what my mother friends and I sometimes do isn’t entirely clean either.

At the last New Year’s Eve party, Sonja and Tessa spent half an hour with a safety distance of about 100 meters in front of the garages. “Luis and Anton are still awake, we don’t want them to see their mothers smoking on the balcony,” they whispered to me after a five-minute cleaning session in the bathroom. Including disinfection. “No, Carlotta, that’s apple spritzer for adults,” my friend Sabine screamed while her five-year-old reached for her champagne. And when I shouted “shit” because my gin and tonic had fallen, I was mainly met with angry looks from adults. The children didn’t notice anything because they were throwing streamers at each other. And I wasn’t even drunk, I’m just a sucker.

Even the best make mistakes

Of course you have to protect your children, I’m also more of the protective type of mother. Of course you shouldn’t send them drunk and slurping “fuck” to the gas station to get cigarette butts and grain. But you can still know that Mom isn’t drinking apple spritzer at the moment, I think. There are things that only adults are allowed to do and children are not. They are not always right or healthy, sometimes even dangerous. That’s why you don’t have to imitate them. You can explain that right away. Even the best make mistakes.

Then I thought about whether I had to be more papal than the Pope – or better more maternal than Mother Theresa – and decided the following: Sometimes (or more often) I just slipped “shit” out of it. Since my children are of course super smart, they then say “Mom, you don’t say that”, I apologize – and that’s it. I don’t smoke in front of my kids because I just do it when I’m drunk. And they shouldn’t see me drunk. Nobody should do that, though, because then I’m a very embarrassing person. My children are still pretty young, I have to keep my head reasonably clear. But these are just my rules. Nobody will die from it or have permanent damage because they find out that their parents have puffed on a cigarette or drank too much gin and tonic. I am convinced of that. Period.

Usually you celebrate without the children. That’s why Sonja, Tessa, Sabine and I have just planned a weekend in Berlin. There we can drink, smoke, say “shit”, “fuck” and “kiss my ass” as much and often as we want. When we return on Sundays, we will again be exemplary role models. Or maybe not. My father finally turned out to be something, although my grandpa made him smoke and ran over red lights. At least he likes to tell.

Barbara

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