Saturday, February 9, 2013

Name That Tune

"I was totally gonna poke you," my husband said.
"I know you were!" I said, letting the disbelief seep into my voice. "We had maybe ten minutes before the kid would've found us!"
"Hmm," he said. "I could've done it in three..."
"What? Yeah. All I needed was three..."
I found out it's really hard to safely beat someone up while driving down the road at 50mph. :)

Tuesday, February 5, 2013

Fear Me

What is it about motherhood that makes women so completely fearless?
I can remember a time when everything scared me.
Even a trip to the grocery store would be enough to send me into a  panic epic enough only to be calmed by the inhaling of an entire Hot-n-Ready pizza while watching back-to-back episodes of "Buffy the Vampire Slayer" on FX.

But,  somehow, after one goes through the horrific experience of both pregnancy (and don't let the hippies fool you - it's not a "beautiful and natural thing" - it sucks. A lot) and the joy of a mandatory C-section (Oh SURE let's invite the students in to see both my vagina AND my fat rolls AAAAND my innards) to make things like the frozen food aisle seem a bit less daunting.

I used to gag and wretch at the sight or sound of other's bodily functions but now, upon entering a rest room, I see only the germs that keep me from getting out alive, er, or without Influenza. And I can get in and out without touching a single solid surface. Which makes me think that the Olympics should sponsor some sort of Housewives version of their Chariots of Fire.  We could score each other on Bathroom Dashes, Diaper Changes of Light, and Compromising for Champions.
Okay - no one would have time to watch - but I think it would be rather cool.  I could finally get a medal in a "sport," since I'm pretty sure that Couch Surfing has yet to become a world-wide phenomenon.

Also - I'm pretty proud that I just spelled "phenomenon" without spell-check.  Go me!

So, yeah, since I have become a mom I no longer suffer from the same kind of phobias I did before.  The monsters may not live under my bed anymore but I'm pretty sure they still exist so I have to don my armor, ready my Lysol and protect my 2 year old for whatever he decides lives in his closet.

Being a mom sucks sometimes.  But when you are their world, their deleter of baddies and dispensers of gogurt - you become - a god.
A god in need of a dye job, a hair cut and with ragged cuticles and dirty bras - but still - a god, nonetheless.
And gods fear nothing.
Except E.Coli - that crap is SCARY!