My firstborn, (My first pancake) was doomed by being the only child of a young Mom, and desperately needed to find a social outlet besides other 23 year olds. It was a rookie mistake. A mistake that haunted me for years with pre-adolescent, high pitched, fever recitations of statistics and battle strategies the likes unaware parents would never know! I was a mother in denial.
…“ Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of mental panic…I will fear no evil.”
I thought that 20 years was enough time to forget the past and move on, but 2 weeks ago my daughter dug through the rubble of parental sanity and unearthed the unholy…. Pokemon!
It was as though the child awoke with a divine revelation and calling from a Pokemon master himself, she was a willing convert to Pokemon-ism and with it, all manner of color and flashing light and sound sequences burst forth from our TV , unleashing the resurrection! I thought I had scoured the house and hosed down any sign of the Pokemon shiny tinfoil colored trappings of wrappings of crazy in a starter pak of 10! That’s how it starts. All innocent and sweet. The next thing you know, you have sold your soul and a pint of blood for 3 more booster paks of 130. Just one more!
What my newly converted Pokemon disciple didn’t realize was that I have been down this road once before. (How could she have found them? There were 14 years between children for a reason. Therapy.)
I recall my sweet little son, hiding in the metal center round of a clothing rack in Target (the refuge of maternal shopping sprees everywhere.) Off in the distance he heard the rustling of another size 5’s running at full speed, lights flashing from the heels of his Power Ranger shoes, and emerged to investigate. His first pitch into the conversation?
“Do you like Pokemon?”
And the bond was forged right then and there as two 8 year olds rattled back and forth like a garden sprinkler pinned against a garbage can lid; the oral story of Pokemon lineage was recited that very day.
I got to thinking about this, now that my second was lost to the allure of creatures that speak no other language than repeating their own stupid names over and over in different variations. What if there were Pokemon battles for parents? What Pokemon forces would we unleash upon the battlefield? It needed a new name. Nothing original, just a cheap knock-off for satirical purpose: “Poke-a-Mom” was born!
Cryzor– Toddler with powers of Crying at decibels that makes Mom’s cringe 14 aisles over in the supermarket. If unabated, “Cryzor” will morph into “Battle Tantrum” mode and throw sugar coated cereal at you with piercing screams.
Mine-o-saur – Has one purpose in life: to drive Mothers to drink at 10 am. Mine-O-saurs powers come in “Sibling Rivalry” and “Unnerve” that is especially deadly in the back seat of the car going through a drive-thru window with a speaker.
Im-Possumsyl – Special powers of negativity, rolling eyes and emitting “Really Mom?” snarky remarks when anyone else tries to sing to the radio, also has the ability to play dead or go boneless in an attempt to not be moved from the spot in which she is hell bent on claiming.
Mombus– Double action Lesbian Mom , able to make a round of healthy lunches, correct last night’s extra credit Science diorama, pour two coffee thermoses for the morning commute, and chase down the neighborhood bully with her bare hands without removing her clippable keychain from her jeans .Comes with two tubes of chap stick and one lip gloss. Special power: Eyebrow raise and stare of death when a “tone has been taken with the other Mom” or if interrupted while one is on the phone with the other Mom and Cryzor is in full swing.
Winezilla – this is a stressed out Mom in Beast Mode who has just come through 2 meltdowns in the cereal aisle, clean laundry that was dumped right back into the hamper because it was easier than putting it in the drawers, 1 “Lice Notification” from the school, and a science experiment of silly putty slime trail oozing down the bathtub drain where the youngest just exited the tub with dry hair and pruned fingers.
Warning! Winezilla needs her bottle of Chardonnay, a quiet room with extra locks on the door and 3 hours of “Leave Me Alone or I will Eat you!” to settle this one down into something you can communicate with. Sliding chocolates under the door helps this process.
Helicoptericus– parents who refuse to allow their children to breathe their own air, and pre-masticate their gluten free Kale chips so 16 year old Jubilee doesn’t accidentally choke. Known for wrapping their children in natural fiber wraps till the child is “launched” at 45, they typically sport a giant hump on their back, and bitterness from years of spontaneous sex wasted. The females are usually noted for breasts that wrap around their waist as a belt, from long distance breastfeeding through the college years. The males sport full sleeve tattoos and 1800’s mustaches, but drive bicycles and dream of large breasted women.
Helicoptericus will eventually transform into Empty-nestericrom where they will lie helpless on their carpet with a ergonomic sippy cup of Vodka and strewn with gluten free macaroni and non toxic spray glitter necklaces reciting in Dora the Explorer speak.
I’m not sure if I can do another full round of Pokemon with my daughter and keep my sanity intact, but it’s either that or break out my own Poke-A-Mom and watch the eye rolling battle ensue!