To follow is
an exclusive interview with one of the authors of Just 18 Summers, Rene Gutteridge, conducted by herself, about
herself, for the self promotion of her book about her parenting self. Warning:
Reader discretion advised. Some of this content may be highly offensive to
those of you who came out of the womb with all maternal instincts intact.
Rene: Thanks
for agreeing to be interviewed today.
Now, you’ve just written a novelization on parenting, based on a script
written by Marshal Younger, Michelle Cox and Torry Martin, which was based on
Michelle Cox’s original idea. I’m
assuming before they asked you to write this novelization, you were thoroughly
interviewed to assure them of your qualifications as a parent.
Me:
Absolutely. They asked, “Do you
have kids?” I’m like, “Yeah.” And they’re like, “Cool. You’re in.”
Rene: That
doesn’t really sound like an extensive vetting process.
Me: Well,
I mean, I’ve got pictures of my kids all over my Facebook page, so
automatically it’s clear that I’m totally qualified.
Rene: How
do we know those are even your kids?
Me: Look,
have I airbrushed dirt off their faces when I’m trying to get that perfect
family picture? Sure. Guilty.
But otherwise, I mostly just yell at them to smile for the camera or
we’ll be out here for as long as it takes.
And not the fake smiles either.
Rene: Okay…well,
maybe we should start from the beginning.
What’s one of your earliest motherhood memories of your first child?
Me: I
remember being so overjoyed. And so
afraid too. I was in charge of a little
bitty human being! I didn’t want to
leave the hospital. It was so scary to think of doing this on my own, without
the nurses giving me guidance. I
remember one really nice nurse was encouraging me as she was showing me how to
properly clean his belly button stub. I
said, “I’m just so afraid it’s going to get infected!” And she said, “Sweetie, the belly button is
the easiest part. It will be just fine, I promise.” So we left the hospital and drove home in
this horrible rainstorm, almost getting into a wreck. I was pretty frazzled and swore I wasn’t
going to leave the house ever again. I
settled down a bit as he slept. Then it was time to change his first
diaper. I had the whole changing station
perfectly arranged with wipes and diapers and creams and everything else I
might need. He was screaming like crazy
on that table. The next thing I know,
there is a stream of urine arching high like a rainbow, then coming down…right
into his mouth.
Rene: He
drank his own urine?
Me: Not
willfully, sheesh. You make it sound
so…yeah, it was bad. Crying
hysterically, I rushed him to my husband and immediately called the hospital
that I’d just been discharged from—the one that said we’d be fine. They transferred me to the nurse’s station
and I didn’t even really know how to word it in a way that wouldn’t get my
parent card revoked. But I just came out
and said it. “My son just peed in his
mouth.” I held my breath, ready to hear
the worst news, that we were going to have to rush him to the hospital. The nurse on the other end said, “Honey, he’s
been drinking his urine for nine months.
He’ll be fine.” So, that was my
first full day as a mom.
Rene: Wow.
Well, accidents do happen, I guess. But
everything else went OK?
Me: Yeah,
for about four days, until we had our first pediatric appointment, where the
doctor informed me his belly button was infected.
Rene: I
thought that was virtually impossible.
Me: According
to available data, yes. I must’ve said,
“I swear I’ve been swabbing it with alcohol,” forty times in that little exam
room. We actually had to go see a
specialist. It’s a little known sub-sub
specialty of physicians who are experts in catastrophically incompetent
parents. Thankfully, it’s almost always covered by insurance.
Rene: Well,
there’s a learning curve to be expected on the first child. By the second one, things surely got easier.
You have a daughter too.
Me: Yeah,
I mean, I thought so. No stubs got
infected. She didn’t eat anything meant
for our pets. So I felt good about
myself, you know? But then my mom
pointed out when she was two that she probably needed her eyes checked. And I said, “How do you know that?” And my mom said, in the nicest of ways, “I’ve
noticed she holds everything about two inches from her face to look at it. And also her eyes are crossed.” I was with my daughter every day. How could I not notice that? But at
least I haven’t, you know, lost my kids at Disney World.
Rene: You
haven’t taken them to Disney World.
Me: The
point is, I’ve done some things right.
Rene: On
a scale from 1 to 10, how much are you going to fudge these examples?
Me: I’d
say a seven, because I’m going to pretend that everything I did right came from
the maternal instincts all girls are supposedly born with.
Rene: Where
did they come from?
Me: Parent
magazines. The Today Show. Watching my friends make it look easy and
then me trying to fake it.
Rene: At
the risk of your parenting skills making Octomom look like Mrs. Cleaver, was
there anything you did right?
Me:
Rene: Anything
at all?
Me: Hold
on, I’m thinking.
Rene: It’s
just getting awkward.
Me: Got
it. Every night I tuck them into their
beds and tell them that I love them. And
I tell them that God loves them and that there is a purpose and plan for their
lives. I tell them I’m sorry when I fail
them. I tell them there are always
second and third and thousands of chances when they fail me. I tell them that no matter what happens, God
will never leave them or forsake them, and that if they ever get in trouble, He
will hear their prayers. I pray for them every day. I teach them to pray for others. I show them all the opportunities they have
in their lives to be compassionate to others.
I point out how much they bless me.
I ask them to bless other people. I remind them that tomorrow is a new
day, filled with brand new mercies and grace.
Rene: Uh,wow…that
was kind of poignant. Do you have any other
words of wisdom for fellow parents out there?
Me: “Motherhood
ain’t for sissies.”
Rene: I
would quote you on that, but you’re a professional writer and you used the word
ain’t.
Me: My
kids aren’t even allowed to say that word under my roof. It’s sort of like
cussing.
Rene: So
I guess all this is leading me to ask the question, when you wrote Just 18 Summers, which parent did you
identify with the most?
Me: I
suppose the manic one. No, maybe the
worrywart. Now that I think about it,
I’m more like the strict disciplinarian.
I’m like the kitten-downed version of Tiger Mom. I know I don’t look all that tough, but you
should see me when I find underwear on the floor. You can guarantee that I won’t see underwear
on the floor again at least until the next time they take them off.
Rene: So
what you’re saying is that Just 18
Summers will give hope to parents everywhere?
Me: Oh
yeah. You’ll totally feel good about
yourself when you’re done with this book. And more importantly, you’ll begin to
see every summer you have with your kids in an entirely new light.
Rene: You
just enrolled your first born in high school.
How was that?
Me: Tearful. Just yesterday he was peeing in his own
mouth. Look at him now.
Rene: Time
flies.
Me: And
summers get shorter with every day that they grow older.
Rene: I’m
afraid to ask, but any parting words?
Me: Hang
in there. Someday you’ll get to be a
grandparent and make up for everything.
