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I'm the one with the glazed look on my face after answering for the millionth time,
"I don't know what worms eat." I sniff at a baby's diaper -- on purpose. Eat leftover baby food smeared on toast for breakfast.
Consider myself lucky to get a shower by noon. I eat standing up. I drink leftover milk with graham cracker crumbs floating
in it. I eat the crusts nobody wants.
Once upon a time I had a stomach that didn't fall to the floor. Once I had hips
that didn't serve as a baby saddle. Once I even had breasts that weren't on call 24 hours a day -- and "will it show milk
stains" wasn't my criterion for choosing an outfit.
If you emptied out my purse, you'd find: diapers (new and used), a plastic bag
of Cherrios, a leaky Tommy Tippy cup, a handful of napkins from McDonald's, a sandy pacifier, a soggy piece of bagel, a bottle
of baby Tylenol, and a rectal thermometer.
You know me.
I'm bleary-eyed from being up all night with a teething baby and teary-eyed
from worrying about a toddler that refuses to eat. I'm damp with baby drool, and I have oatmeal in my hair. (I think my sweater's
on inside out, but hey, at least I'm dressed.)
I can't remember the last time I had a whole night's sleep or a HOT cup
of coffee. The only book I've read in the past 6 months is "Good Night Moon."
I never get to finish a senten....
I love my husband, but (yawn) ... zzzzzzzzzz.
Don't ask me if I've
seen any good movies lately. I have if you count the Little Mermaid, Pete Pan, and Cinderella. I know all the names of the
Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles by heart, AND what color each of them wears. I say "Cowabunga, dude," when the pizza's delivered.
I used to be reasonably intelligent, pondering the deep secrets of the universe. I spent many years in college
preparing myself for the great challenges of life. Now I find myself wondering such things as: If Bert and Ernie aren't related,
why do they sleep in the same room? And, where are their parents?
I remember when getting together with friends meant stimulating conversation about current events, love and
the meaning of life. Now we talk for hours about the color of the contents of our babies' diapers. Should we go from breast
to bottle to cup? Skip bottles altogether? Which is better, cloth or disposable? Pacifiers or thumbs? Know any good potty-training
tips?
Maybe you've seen me at church. I'm the one with my skirt on backwards, or the entire inner-facing of my dress
hanging out. In my rush to get everybody else dressed, I often forget to check my own appearance. (Oh, I want to thank you
for not laughing at my one eye made up and my other one bare. In the middle of doing my make-up, someone emptied the flour
canister onto the kitchen floor and I never got around to finishing my eyes.)
I know you don't know my first name-- I don't have one anymore. I answer to my child calling Mom, Mommy, Mama,
or WAAAAAAAAAAAHHH! To be honest, I don't even remember my first name -- I've stop using it myself. When speaking, I simply
refer to myself as, "Mommy." "Mommy says to stop poking the cats ears." "Mommy's ears can't hear whining." "Yes, Mommy's wearing
her angry face." "If you don't stop kicking Mommy, Mommy's going to lose it."
Maybe you saw me lose it one day in the Toys R Us parking lot. With one child kicking the back of my car seat,
and another one chanting "I wanna go to the park! I wanna go to the park!" I lost it. Slammed on the brakes and ran out of
the car screaming, "Calgon take me away!" The kids still refer to it as "the time Mommy went cuckoo."
But I have my good
days, too. Days when we get through breakfast without Cream of Rice on the wall. Days when the cat doesn't end up in the toilet.
Days when everyone takes a nap at the same time. On those days I feel powerful. In control. On those days, I can do it all.
I
am MOMMY, hear me roar.
I can nurse a baby and cook dinner at the same time. I can nurse a baby, read a magazine, AND tie shoes at the
same time. I can even nurse a baby, AND talk on the phone, AND fold laundry AND watch Oprah all at the same time.
You know
who I am. I'm a Mommy.
And I don't even need an American Express card to prove it.
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