What do I call fulltime motherhood? Eating straight out of the pan, getting excited over a movie they’ll be showing on the Disney Junior channel, forgetting to brush my teeth until three o’clock, singing and dancing to cartoon songs that I probably know better than my kid, being in pajamas all day until the few minutes before Mauricio gets home and I frantically change into something less pathetic, answering the questions that Dora or Wally Kazam ask. That’s my personal definition for fulltime motherhood.
In lieu of sappy Mother’s Day proclamations of effortless Thank You, Mom’s or the overused I wouldn’t be here without your love, I have come out with this blunt and sarcastic blog post form my perspective of motherhood. Leave your Thank You’s and appreciative To all the hardworking moms on Facebook posts at home. I’m not your mom, I don’t need your show of appreciation. It means nothing to me.
Now that the semester is over the real work has begun. I have to make sure this kid doesn’t starve, doesn’t burn himself, doesn’t hit his head too hard, doesn’t bleed out, and doesn’t consume anything poisonous. I could add a bunch of different things, but that could take a while. Right now it’s noon. T-7 hours until Mauricio gets home and I’m partially off the clock. Ha! I wish. Once Mauricio is home it’s dinner duty! That’s swell. I freakin’ love cooking after a long day of running after a small human! No, I don’t.
If you have this whole fulltime motherhood thing down smoothly and you manage to fix your hair and wash your face before one o’clock rolls around, then cheers to you. I love my kid and I am more than capable of caring for him and teaching him various things throughout the day, but it’s just tiring. Sometimes I can even squeeze in some chalk drawing outside if I’m not too cranky. Everyone knows that parenting is a thankless job until one day your kid turns eighteen and hopefully realizes the sacrifices and time you’ve put into raising him or her before he or she goes off to college, leaving you with tuition payments, a couple of loans, and/or partial apartment payments. (Sorry, Mom & Dad. I’m almost out, but thanks for the support!) Again, if you can manage a kid, or several, without screaming your head off, then hip hip hooray for you. Even if you need to scream a couple of times or lock yourself in the closet you still get a pat on the back. It’s frustrating and as long as you’re not driving your SUV full of kids into a ravine, then you’re doing a good job. Cheers to you, Mom.
The underwear slash potty training thing is still a no-go. Sebastian ended up bawling and yanking at his Hulk undies. But I guess that’s better than having to mop the floor every other hour. I’m still too wound up after the 10+ papers from this Spring semester, so spraying homemade cleaning solution on the floors all day is the last thing I want to do.
I guess this is the part of the post where I begin to thank my own mom for her love and support.
Thank you, mom, for all of the frustration and moments of realization where you figured your life wouldn’t develop past being a stay-at-home mom with a knack for paper crafts, yet managed to raise three kids and a grandson despite all the strife. Your hard work has not gone unrecognized. It’s only now as an adult that I realize what you must have gone through and I appreciate you all the more for it because you never drove me into a ravine no matter how much of a pain in the ass I was. I think Natalia, Raulito, and I are past that phase of buying#1 Mom necklaces, but I don’t think you need more of those anyway. You should already know you’re a kick-ass mom. We know it. I don’t know any other mom, other than you and myself, that is willing to start a fight over some bullshit the school district has put their kids through. So thank you for teaching me to not to settle for the bullshit and for letting me bother you with multiple phone calls to figure out how to cook some meals. Also, for letting me confide in you secrets that any other mom would probably hang me for. Thanks, I love you.