Because you are not the only one who has a teeny little piece of you not hate when your kids are sick. I’m not going to go so far as to say I like when my kids are sick. I’m not a goddamn monster. But I am a mom of two cold WASPs who are not cuddlers. Except when they are sick. When the internal temperature of my girls rises above 98.6, they suddenly want to snuggle up with some blankets, a lovey, and their mama. Currently, both girls are rocking strep throat, and, while I’m not going so far as to withhold the Tylenol, I am getting in every single cuddle I possibly can until the fever breaks.
Most of us know that NSFW means “Not Safe For Work.” We know to interpret that to mean that the material following includes some mature content that you wouldn’t want on your computer screen when your boss passes by. We also know it means that what follows has the potential to be lewd, offensive, or crass. You know who might not know that? People who retired long before the Internet came along and reduced office productivity by 87%. People like the lovely folks I call mom, aunt, or uncle. People who should probably just stop reading now.
Seriously, I’d say we should invent a new acronym, NSFFOAOG: Not Safe For Family Of An Older Generation, but I’m pretty sure they would see that and just assume anyone using it was another illiterate victim of the Whole Language movement of the 80s. Alas. The bottom line is, you have to spell it out for them phonics style. If you were born before the Truman administration, STOP READING THIS NOW! Seriously Aunt Cathy, just stop.
You see, today’s Mama Makes You Feel Better came to me with a little message that said, “I hope this doesn’t offend you.” Offend me it did not. I LOVED it! If my thighs looked this cute, I’d have done it myself long ago. I’m pretty sure that every single mom and dad with a kid under 8 at home (please tell me this stops when they’re 8) can relate to this picture.
Today, Mama is making you feel better because you, my friend, are NOT the only one who has company every time you need to use the facilities. Every. Single. Time. You are not the only ones whose children take your entrance into the bathroom as a sign that you want a hug or to hear a lengthy recap of the latest episode of Sofia the First. You are not alone. Literally.
Thanks to Kiera B. for the photo!
Because you can feel grateful today that your husband does not own three fog machines. Three. I’m sure even if he has one, he doesn’t decide to “try it out” on a Thursday morning. He was willing to compromise and do it on the front porch. Our porch, however, is enclosed. If you’ll excuse me, Mama is going to go check to see if Amazon sells children’s nebulizers.
Because you are not alone if you’re having trouble making dinner without any distractions. Dinner time is known as the “witching hour” for infants, but no one tells you all of their carrying on continues through the toddler years. Once they reach around 10 months, they limit their freak outs to the times you are fully immersed in dinner preparation. If you order out, they’ll be chill.
When she looks for ear buds, she pulls two pairs out of a drawer. And a Kindle charger. And some string. And a bracelet. And a phone charger. And a pen. And a resistance band. All conveniently attached to one another. Meanwhile, she was looking for ear buds because her normal pair had to be thrown out as they were in the fruit bowl that also housed a rotting, leaking watermelon.
Once upon a time, I dropped a bowl full of leftover cranberry sauce, which splattered all over the kitchen. I sponged most of it up that evening (I’m not an animal), but some of the sauce found its way to the door jam we use to track the girls’ height. I fear that taking a magic eraser to the sauce will also remove the height lines. So the cranberry sauce, fingerprints, and other unidentified smears remain. For purposes of full disclosure, I dropped it while we were hosting Friendsgiving 2015. I’ll allow you to check this post date and do the math.
1.) My stove has been this filthy for an incredibly long time.
2.) Yes, that’s the remnants of boxed macaroni and cheese you see there, because that’s what I (sloppily) made my kids for dinner.
3.) After they went to bed, I spent my Friday night roasting a marshmallow for myself. Brilliant? Kind of. Sad and pathetic? Most definitely.
Let my trifecta give you a confidence boost. If you did basically anything else last Friday night, you should feel superior.
This is what it looks like under our dining room table. Unidentifiable crumbs and toy bits from all walks of life living together in unity. It’s what I imagine the secret community that lives in the Parisian catacombs is like.
If you saw your child put something that looked like this in their mouth, you might shout in warning, give them some water for rinsing, and then research the incubation periods for ebola, the plague, or, at the very least, hepatitis. These are my children’s toothbrushes. I am currently encouraging my children to put these filthy things in their mouths. I think we need a trip to Target.
Social media makes moms feel like shit. Mama Tries Blog is here to make all of those highlight reels of other people’s lives a distant memory. When a trip through your news feed leaves you feeling inadequate or depressed, check in with Mama Makes You Feel Better. In comparison, you’re Mother of the Year. This series is sponsored by that time I let my girls use lipstick & then promptly left the room.