A few of the reasons we mommies HAVE to get out of the house:
1. Diapers/formula: We're out. They've crapped in, or sucked down the last of them and we just hope there's enough to get us to the store. Once there, we can always break open the package. I know I'm not the only person out there that's handed a cashier an open product.
2. Weather: We must remember after not leaving the house for several days, that weather does still happen and we'd like to know what it feels like. Only to instantly say "CRAP, it's cold! Dragging kids around in this is ridiculous! I should've just opened a window."
3. They've destroyed the house. As much as we try to keep on top of keeping the house somewhat presentable. There are just those days when the efforts are futile. On this note, we'll discuss this morning...
I should've known when I went to the bathroom and didn't have "help" something was amiss. Gone from the kitchen for, I swear, less than a minute, I returned to find a box of crackers spilled, crushed and tracked all over the floor. A chair pushed over the island, which my child obviously used to climb up and across the counter to retrieve a bottle of Pepto Bismol I was certain was out of reach. At which point, she sat on the chair and actually got the lid off. Poured the entire bottle (which was brand new) out into the given cup, all over my freshly cleaned counter top, and onto my now cracker covered solid hickory wood floors. In what I assume was an attempt to clean it up, she smeared her hands in it, then all over the chair, down the sides of the cabinets and into the pantry where she got a hankering for some cookies. Cookies covered in chocolate. In a prepackaged bag. In an unopened box. On a shelf out of reach. And ate them, covered in Pepto, on my white pebble rug. Houdini. Definitely should've named her Houdini.
If smoke could've come out of my ears at that point, it would have. I think my head spun around like that creepy girl on the original Exorcist. Pictures would've been appropriate here, but at that moment, adding a camera to the mix, just didn't enter my mind. Once I got that cleaned up, I HAD to get out of the house.
Here, I'll combine a few of my past experiences of getting out of the house. Regardless of what happens at home, the emotion to leave is still the same. I walk into the store relieved there are other people here and the world indeed turns on some other axis other than my children's behavior. Then it happens. Competition time! Woo Hoo! I round the corner and see someone from the past. Whether it's an ex, a girl we didn't know well, or like, from high school but well enough we have to say hello and make small talk, that hot guy from work or a nosy neighbor, we've all been there.
That's when I'm INSTANTLY aware of how I look. Maybe it's instantly aware that I have NO IDEA how I look. Is that baby spit or am I leaking milk on my shirt? Did I brush my hair? Forget that! Did I brush my teeth? Do my clothes even remotely match? Man! I sure wish I would've taken a few minutes for some kind of makeup. They already destroyed the house, what would 2 more minutes have done!?!
As the kids get older, all those thoughts still go through my head but now I'm also very aware of how my children look and are behaving. Sure enough, the day you run into Super Mom is the not the day sweet Emmy wears a soccer uniform, cowboy boots and lets me fix her hair. NOPE. It's the day she's got on orange sweats, a stained white t-shirt, neon green no socks with her leopard print ballet slippers and is pitching a fit for a Toy Story toy. Cute hair? not a chance. I haven't combed that kid's hair in days. Brinley, no help from her. She just fell into a snow bank, is screaming bloody murder and is now an awkward (and wet) shade of gray.
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| yes, we still let her dress herself, and yes, those are cowboy boots |
After talking with said Super Mom, I haven't the foggiest what we discussed. I do remember her perfect hair, perfect makeup, cute boots with jeans (she has on REAL clothes) and her perfectly polished nails. My own have either breakfast, lunch, pepto or a 2 year old's poop dried under them. The only time I wear real clothes is when the comfy ones are all in the wash. The sweet little girl with the princess dress, matching hair bow and mary janes though, just as perfect as her perfect Super Mom. I play it off though. Every time. Smile, chat and be on my way.
Yup, it's time to go home. Throw those kids potato sack style over each shoulder and carry them out. She couldn't tell through my huge sweat pants, but my butt is smaller than hers! I decided I'm glad the destruction in the kitchen was on the wood floors and not on the carpet and consider the day a success. Then Brinley, my Sugar Bear, gives me a big hug and nom noms* me on the cheek laughing her little head off. Then Emmy tells me it's the funnest day ever (I have no idea why though). Who's Super Mom now, Woman!?! (only in my head, I didn't say "woman")
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| Emmy thinks I'm a horse and Brin thinks I'm a slide |
*NOM NOMS is what we call the act of pretending to eat each others ears, noses, cheeks making a "nom nom" sound.
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