Mama Quolls

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Whereas all but the psychologically troubled among us do our best to care for each and every one of our young, there are times when we are tempted to let unpleasant natural consequences take their course.

As if comparing parents of teens to wombats was not enough (see: “Mama Wombats,” Oct. 02), I want to also suggest that we mothers of teenagers can be likened to quolls, to those carnivorous marsupials, otherwise referred to as “native cats,” and as “arboreal rascals,” especially when it comes to emotional survival; a mama quoll can birth almost five times as many young as it can sustain.

Whereas all but the psychologically troubled among us do our best to care for each and every one of our young, there are times when we are tempted to let unpleasant natural consequences take their course, to stop exerting ourselves over our contrary inclinations. Consider the child, who wants to switch schools, but informs her parents less than twenty-four hours ahead of an important visitation event that she needs to get them to “an important meeting,” and then, after Mom and dad have cancelled plans made months in advance, decides that she would be, after all, highly embarrassed if they attended that function.

Consider, too, the youth who complains throughout the act of shopping for food, throughout the act of preparing the food, and throughout the act of gracing the table with the food, that all is futile, at least in his esteem, in the culinary department. Thereafter, that child wolves down at least half of the family’s total allotted portions.

Regard, as well, the child who is so “busy” with homework, especially with preparing for a test scheduled for the following day, and for which she only begun her studies, that she insists that the spill, in the public area, to which her mother drew her attention, is not hers. Only begrudgingly, does she descend from her chamber, acknowledge and clean the mess. Subsequently, she “treats’ her forbearer to an hour-long diatribe about the “unfairness” of high school evaluation methods.

Also, take into your mind the offshoot, who is determined not to miss any time socializing with friends, who tornadoes through chores only to drop something, which can easily be mistaken for the mess belonging to his aforementioned sibling, and who, despite his good intentions, rushes so much when folding the laundry that inevitably, he gifts his youngest sister with clothes that are his mother’s size and his oldest sister with his father’s underwear.

Fortunately, spinifex bushes and deserts do not appeal to most of us. Similarly, letting the ones that fail to hang on merely die out is equally unpalatable. Further, we are wise to the fact that running away from our parental duties for days or even weeks at a time, or loosing ourselves in lumps of clay or fanciful sonatas only provides the illusion of a respite.

Whereas there are moments when it is attractive to consider what life might be like if those small annoyances, whom we parent, might be consumed by unfriendly forces, it’s our good fate that such mentations pass over. True champions, mama quolls.

Embrace their domestic chaos and only then head for their “campsites’” rubbish bins.

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