Posted by Julia Sogaard on 1:17 PM
Ok, if you're a mom... you feel me on this one.
I have the great pleasure of being "momma" to two little boys, but lemme tell ya... it ain't all sunshine and puppies. In literally seconds, these cute little faces can go from sweetheart to sweet mother of God, whatthehellisgoingon? I thought we were on the same team here?!
Since my kids have apparently recently made it their mission to get me to drink by 11 a.m., I've decided to jot down a few reasons they should instead immediately kiss my feet when they wake up in the morning...
1. I don't remember what hot food tastes like. Yes, that's right... I tend to you first, little man. I pour your drink and cut up your chicken just right ("noooo, not like that!") and go back into the kitchen seven different times to get you something else before my butt even touches my chair. You want to know what? I like food. It's even better when it's cooked. Every time you ask for something else before I can take a bite, a little piece of me dies. I think I need to instill a new rule that after the third time you ask for something, I get some cash or something. Maybe, after three requests, I'll slowly take some money out of your college fund. That way, when you're 18 and are psyched about college and learning and whatever, I can go... "Sorry, mommy wanted to send you to school, but she also wanted to eat her damn dinner."
2. I have to plan my life around when you eat and sleep. "Who, me? Forget about me. I had stale Froot Loops four days ago, I'm good. The kids are awake, WE NEED TO GO TO TARGET!"
3. I can sing the theme songs to every show on Nick Jr. and the Disney channel. I mean, word-for-word. This means, that I forgo my sanity and let you watch Dora find her way through what appears to be the same damn forest on the daily. Does this chic ever know where she's going? You'd think after living in the jungle (it's not the jungle, but why is she leaping over rivers and walking through forests all the time?) that she'd know where the hell she was going by now. Homegirl needs a Garmin. Also, do her parents ever watch her? What about her abuelita? Does she live near Diego and baby jaguar? Does she have like 50 pink shirts and orange shorts or does she wear the same set over and over again? Do they have washer and dryers in her village? At age 28, these are the questions that run through my head.
4. I read the same damn books every night. Over and over again. Is it just me, or have children's books become absolutely terrible? Outside of the genius that is Nancy Carlson (what up, Nancy!), I've realized that an alarming number of authors are lazy and can't rhyme. If throwing 4 words in a book and scribbling a cow and three ducks gets you published, then sign. me. up. I'm just a "quack, quack, mooooooo" away from my payday!
5. I am subject to your ear-piercing shrieks. What's that you say? I think only dogs heard you that time, short-stuff. Calm down, get off of that ledge and I'll get you some damn milk! This also goes for public meltdowns. That, my friend, is you truly testing my character. There are only so many Targets in a 20 minute radius of our house and I would like to be welcome back to at least one of them. I ain't going to no K-marts.
6. I haven't truly slept in almost four years. I used to be able to sleep through anything, but now you slightly move to the left in your sleep and I'm all, "I'm up! What happened?! Where am I?" It's like I'm on the bench always prepared to get in the game. I'm not sure what game I'm playing, but I think I wanna sit this one out, coach. I wanna sit this one out.
7. I wipe your butt. I am literally one with your feces every few hours. This is a given, as a parent, but yeah... it counts. Also, when I hear you yell, "I'm dooooooooooooone!! Come wipe my buuuuuuuutt!!!" from the bathroom, I immediately snap into a reoccurring daydream where hearing loss is a possibility. But, because I don't want your poop on my bathroom wall, I reluctantly come to your rescue.
and last, but most important...
8. My pain is your gain. Hey, remember when you were born? Me either. I was in a pain-induced coma for a day and a half. Every child should literally thank their mother three times a day for their entire lives for what their mom did for them. Forget growing and carrying you IN MY BODY for months and months... childbirth was like God's final way of asking, "Hey girl, are you sure about this?". I don't care if someone had a natural birth, an epidural-laced birth or suffered major abdominal surgery to get that baby out, their child is forever indebted to them. Bad news for me is that my boys will never get to experience the feeling of a bowling ball falling out of their hoo-has, so they'll just have to trust me on this one. (Editor's note: Shout out to my mom, Wanda. You go guuuurl.)