When I was 22, I was surprised by a parasite in my womb who stole all my nutrients and made me stupid. If you’ve never heard of pregnancy brain, you’re probably a man, and never listened to a woman talk. For nine months, the little one, who would one day capture my heart, stole my sleep, my figure, and my dignity.
My womb and my 2nd parasite. This is the most naked you’ll ever see either one of us.
After the first one was born and I nursed her for 13 months, I had the bright idea that I wanted my kids 2 years apart. My husband’s army of little men took one try before I had a new little bugger sitting on my bladder so that I’d pee myself. Once that one was born, I closed up shop thinking pregnancy was the worst of it. I thought wrong.
When they were first born, I was instantly in love. They had the faces of angels and they smelled perfect. Well…until they pooped. Then it was as though a hoard of demons had crawled out of the pits of hell and mated with skunks to produce the nicer smelling blowouts. I kid you not, there were days I saw poop being: eaten, painted with, and even explosions that hit the ceiling and walls in the bathroom. I said, “Hellz no!” and had one potty trained at 18 months and the other by 2. Again, this was not the hard part.
My “hypothetical” children have been very close. I tried to do the “you’re my favorite” thing with both of them when they were in preschool. In return I received anger. “No mommy! You can’t love me more than her/him! You love us equally!”… which is true but I hoped to use it to manipulate them. Not only was I thwarted, they also banded together against me. If I’m upset with one, if there is a perceived raising of my voice, they will hold hands and narrow their eyes at me. No words are ever spoken, just the silent disapproval being made known.
You see, when I was growing up, I was led to believe I was going to get to torture my “hypothetical” children one day. You know… the whole, “Do as I say, not as I do” thing. If I were to say jump, they’d ask me how high. I remember once saying, “When I have kids, they’re going to eat mostly veggies because that’s what they’re going to know.” Yeah, I was dumb. After my second was born, I learned to make healthy versions of what most kids eat because he’d just starve himself… unless there was a bribe of dessert. I thought this was difficult.
Now I have a 12 year old and my youngest will be 10 next week. My youngest, my mini me, is charismatic and funny. He’s never met a person that he couldn’t wrap around his finger. While I’m begging you all to buy from amazon through me, he’s asking the kids coming to his party to donate to the local children’s shelter in lieu of gifts. I know he did this just to make me look bad. What the H-E-double-hockey sticks?
“All the fashion magazines say this is the ‘it’ look for all the middle school girls. Honest!”
If that wasn’t enough, my daughter did the same thing to me the Christmas before last. She wanted to give to Heifer International, and cried when she thought Santa only brought her presents. Then she had the gall to be beautiful! I told her, “Listen beyotch, when you hit puberty you have to be ugly until you’re 25! If not, I’m gonna dress you like Mimi from the Drew Carey show and feed you nuttin’ but milkshakes and Cheetos.”
What I know is, that through all the trials and tribulations, I was born to be their mom. My son, when he was 2, said to me, “Mommy, did you know God lets kids pick their thiew mommies? I don’t wemember much but I wemember seeing you. When God asked me, I picked pweicked you!” I know this was meant as a guilt trip so I’d buy him lots of presents for the rest of his birthdays, but it worked. Sucker.
This, of course, forced me to put on bright red lipstick, and kiss them all over before school every morning. I wanted to mark my territory so their friends would know to back off. Out of left field and in rebellion, they refuse to put new toilet paper on the rollers in my house. This is what I found tonight:
Yes, this is my kid’s bathroom. I took this picture tonight, after I’d written the post but… before I edited it.
Why am I writing about all this crappy stuff my hypotheticals did to me? Because one of Ladyornot.com’s readers published a book with some of her fellow mommies. Mother of All Meltdowns is a work of funny tales of trials and tribulations of being a mom, written by her and some of her blogging friends. I suggest you check it out and tell me your thoughts. You can buy the Kindle version or paperback here:
I’ve also put it on my new Amazon products page. Bakinginatornado.com is a great blogger, and a great supporter of this blog.
Because this blog was a bit about my personal life, and Facebook made these videos, I thought I’d share my 10th anniversary video with you. Click Here
x,
Becca
Ladyornot.com
If you have a published book and would like me to pimp it, feel free to shoot an email to me at Rebeccalynn_dj@yahoo.com.
The post “The Mother of all Meltdowns” appeared first on Lady or Not...Here I Come.
