Hint: The Magazines Were Full of Crap
It’s Not Pretty! A Day in the REAL LIFE of Parents is nothing like you have been told or “sold.” Before children, you dreamed of how parenthood would look on you. You picked up a magazine featuring your favorite celebrities and their children and dreamed of how it would be. We’ve all seen them , those pictures of skinny celebrities stylishly dressed, hair and makeup perfect, in their white bedroom wearing white clothing (NO! You must never mix white and children!) They just rolled out of bed looking perfect, after sleeping for 11 hours straight. Their baby has been sleeping through the night since birth. They are eating a healthy breakfast of all organic foods that they made themselves…
Hit the brakes honey, its time for a reality check.
We’re Broke and Tired
The 2 year old crawls in bed with me at o dark thirty, cuz sleeping in on a Sunday is for suckers and single people. “Hi Sweetpea” she announces brightly before ripping down the covers to reveal my bare chest. I nonchalantly reach for a t-shirt while she chants in a deep voice, “I want boobs…BOOBS.” I get up and we head out the door to drive up to Duluth to look at a rental property (on account of having kids is a money suck so we need a side hustle). In the hurry to get out the door I forgot to apply makeup, and I washed my hair but didn’t flat iron. Between the red frizzy hair and the pale tired face I am pretty much channeling Carrot Top.
It’s not pretty.
We Might Look Like a Busted Can of Biscuits
We run thru the McDonald’s drive thru, and I feel a pang of guilt for not packing the kids something healthy, and for blowing the diet I started an hour before. The diet that I started cuz the outfit I wanted to wear was too tight, leading to outfit change, running late, and forgetting to apply makeup. I decide to eat my feelings about that.
It’s not pretty.
The 11 year old is recovering from the flu. He hacks on the back of my neck all the way to Duluth and back. I have this thing. It’s not a general germ thing, but it’s a germs in cars thing. Basically, if someone coughs or sneezes even once in the car I can barely resist the urge to leave them on the side of the road. I have to roll the window down so the germs can escape and they don’t stick to me. So there we are, tooling down the road, window up window down, repeat…but I still think I need antibiotics. Back at home, the oldest kiddo comes over, as do some other lovely children who occasionally call me mom. They bring a picture of My grown up boy when he was little. My heart is full, and I don’t mind it so much when the grandpuppy poops downstairs.
So MANY Bodily Fluids…
The big kids leave, and as I’m getting ready for bed, baby girl pukes in her crib. Hubby grabs the sheets, I grab the girl, but she’s having none of me. “No, no DADDY!!” she screams, writhing on the floor and smearing vomit all over the hallway. I finally wrestle her into clean pajamas and she snuggles up to me, breath sour and crusty hair. And even though I’m breathing thru my mouth so I don’t have to smell her, I can’t help but think how sweet she is. The perfect weight of her in my arms. And I hold her longer than I need to.