Uplifting and comical…a look at my life, motherhood and the circus that goes with it

SIGN SAYS CLOSED…

“Mommy.”

“What?”
“Um, Mommy,”

“Whaaat…”

“Mommy, um Mommy,”

(Ignore)

“MOMMMIEEE”

“WHAAAATTTTT!”

“My socks on weird.”

(awesome)

 

We get so annoyed when we hear our name 50+ times in a day. We pray for someone to leave us alone for five seconds. It’s impossible. Like when all three kids are in the bathroom in a three story house while you are trying to pee and then say how disgusting you are while they are watching you pee. Or when they yell your name to talk about how cute Austin Mahone is when they are taking a poop because they are bored.  (But that’s not disgusting????).  Sometimes I think they have absolutely nothing to say, but our name, which is way they say it with no content to follow.

 

(June 1, 2006) Oh my god! She just called me mama! (If I only knew what that meant). Ecstatic. I called my mom, her mom and her mom’s mom.  Seven years later, 2 more kids later, and now I’m sitting in the social security’s office praying to Jesus that my name can change to Daddy, (OR Possibly AUNT??)  “Sorry, mam, can’t help you.” (Crap.)

 

In fact, this very word is the entire reason why our husbands don’t understand that we can’t get the entire house cleaned in two hours. Mopping the floor with four perfectly insane interruptions increases the mopping by 30 minutes or more. There are no simple tasks when there is at any possible time ability for “mommy” to be muttered. Forget it. Not going to happen.

 

So what do we do? We turn into head cases. We wake up 2 hours before dawn so that we can scrub the bathroom floor without anyone talking to us. We cream in our pants when there is a 2 hour window to fold laundry without someone stepping on it, unfolding it, climbing in the basket or saying “mommy, I need you.” We used to get excited over a cute outfit, now it’s all about “time to get stuff done”.   It becomes a marathon to complete any task before we are called upon for more services.

 

It’s not all bad though. Like when your child wins the spelling bee and you are racing up to the stage so that everyone knows that you are their mother because after all, you were the one who taught them their ABC’s.  Or when your daughter kills it during gymnastics class and she yells “hi Mommy,” and you start waving wildly, “that’s me! Yea, that’s me…what, what (raising the roof embarrassingly) ” …like you are the one that just hurled yourself over the uneven bars. And even when you (and I mean me ) is standing in the Starbucks line after a horrific day with my 3 kids and after one of them says “mommy” a stranger turns around and says. “How cute…they are all yours?” (Insert dirty look here).. “Why, yes, yes, they are” grinning wildly with pearly whites brighter than Joe Biden.

 

So, I mean, it does have its perks. Realistically when that’s all you hear in a day, it can’t be all that bad. When they get to be 15, I’m sure I’ll be in therapy because “mommy” will turn into ‘I hate you, you bitch’”.  Mommy will have never sounded so good and probably will not hear “mommy” again until my children have children and they start asking for things again like “Can you watch the baby?” or “Can you watch mine and my sister’s kids?” and then “Don’t worry, its only going to be like 6 hours with all 7 of ours…But we love you and we want their grandparents to watch them and not a babysitter.” (Tear) “Oh of course..” we will say.

 

I’m pretty sure when “mommy” turns into “Grandma” , we will not care about getting the drink that is sitting exactly one inch away from their face or helping them get into the snack drawer even if they already went in their 5 times in the past hour. We will probably be saddened that those little voices that said “mommy” and chased us around the house are gone, but will be more forviging when those cute little innocent faces glare up at us and say after the 75th time that day. “Grandma”….and we will respond with a smile. “What dear?”

“I love you.”

And you look towards the dishes that are piled in the sink and at the laundry that is splattered in different piles in the living room from not being put away yet…and after all these years…those things really meant nothing at all.

 

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