In The Mother Hood

There are so many little things that occur every day that we as moms just don’t talk about. I don’t tell people. I wouldn’t because…well… let’s face it…It’s not pretty.

The reason why it's not pretty is because of the shame! Oh my goodness! The shame! The “I can’t believe I went there!” or “I can’t believe I said that!”, and what about the “Good thing no one saw me do that!”

I refuse to have these feelings any more. We’re parents. We are owed mistakes and imperfections! I am going to rationalize and relieve my conscience in any way I can! With that comes Mom confessions! Let the haters hate!

Mom Confession: One tiring evening I had finally gotten my then three year old son to bed. The only way this could occur is if I climbed into bed with him, despite the newest episode of The Voice and Adam Levine working soundly in the movie room one very thin wall away.

Can we all just stop of a second and think about Adam Levine?? Thank you! That moment may return again. I’m just warning you.

Anyway, I am lying on my side. He is curled up beside me with his head on my outstretched arm. I’m sure most parents know this move. This is the hard one to get out of for when you think they are really asleep but just barely moving that arm upsets the whole apple cart!

The worst thing starts to happen when I know with a hundred percent surety that it’s too soon to move.

My nose starts to run.

I sniff it back up! And don’t think, “Eww! Gross!” because we’ve all done it!

*LONG SNIFF!*

My wimpy nasal passages are starting to run faster than I can sniff! I can’t call out to Mr. Molly Mormon because that will wake the sweet angel faced child nestling in the crook of my arm.

He’s so warm and sweet when he is asleep.

*Sniff!*

Oh! Don’t tell my awesome hubs that I refer to him as Mr. Molly Mormon. He hates that!!!

Anyway, let’s assess the situation. Sleeping boy, big runny nose, tissue two very thick walls away, Mr. Molly Mormon out of earshot with Adam Levine talking, Adam Levine…

No! Focus!

The schnoz is out of control by now. I literally have snot running down my face! Okay, I give full permission for you to think, “Ewww! Gross!” I get it.

It finally occurs to me that I have only one option if I don’t want to wake the sleeping sweet angelic baby boy that just won’t let me move.

I take a deep breath as if to prepare myself for doing something here that I never thought I would do. I never thought I would cross this line, yet here I am. I know there is no other way.

I gently take the top shoulder of my son’s shirt and I wipe all my schnoz snot across the front of his pajamas!

Okay, now I give full permission to scream, “Eww! Gross!”

Now it was time to rationalize my actions. Let’s think about why this was okay.

One, how many times have any ONE of your children smeared snot, drool, boogers, urine, feces, or any other body material across your bright Gap shirt, new heels, or freshly clean bed sheets? Am I wrong ladies? Has anyone never had to change the crib sheets in the middle of the night because the baby ejectile vomited all over them?

Two, the mere fact that I haven’t worn heels since Y2K’s New Year’s Eve bash is a good enough reason to be labeled as number two!

Three, all this happens to my now six year old boy! That’s right I said BOY! He’s a boy! He delights in snot! He intentionally inserts the word ‘Poop’ during the dinner prayer. Everything is about his wiener, his junk, his poop, and his butt. I have literally given this boy descriptive orders of the extreme such as “Get the dog off the top of the refrigerator! NOW!”, “Don’t touch your junk while eating a cookie!” and the never to be forgotten “Take the dinner fork OFF your penis!” Just last week he did what he calls "The Golden Arch" which just a fancy way of him peeing in public....Yeah it was at a church BBQ. His feet always smell, he spits on his sisters, and he sends clean underwear to the laundry and puts dirty underwear on after his bath!

I do not allow him to do these things in case you were questioning any of my actions. Many haters are going to say what a terrible mom I am. Sure! I blew my nose on my toddler! Big deal. But for any of you still on the fence about my motherhood...

No. I don't text and drive. Sometimes I do talk on the phone and drive. 

Yes. I will leave my kids in the air conditioned SUV with my 12 year old while I check the mail, mail off online shipments, or just to get a drink for heck sake!

No. I don't leave my younger kids home alone. 
Yes. I will let my baby stay in her crib and play while I get work done IF she is happy. Sometimes she isn't happy. 

I don't always get to the wet/poopy diaper right away. 

I have left hot tools in their reach. Once my five year old got a 2nd degree burn. I cried with her knowing it was my fault. 

I yell. 

I am sarcastic. 

Every time they complain, my reply to them is, "Hey. Feel lucky. I could have been a Meth mom." It's good that I'm not. Not so good that I bring that to their attention. 

As much as they drive me to drink, I never will touch alcohol now or ever in the future. But I want to. 

I have had thoughts of wrapping up my teenagers in a shower curtain and rolling them down a hill. If you think that is mean for me to have that thought, then I would invite you to have teenagers! You will then think very VERY differently. 

I am tired. I am weary. I do everything for them All. The. Time. I do VERY little for myself. Because of this, sarcasm is a clear outlet. They are why I live. They are my world and I love them more than life itself. Every sacrifice has been worth it!