Monday, April 10, 2006

Toddler Jihad and a Pink Shirt

Out-witted, out-gunned, out-numbered and out of my freakin' mind. But at least I'm in the pink!

I am done to death by the incessant demands that have been made, and I am through with trying to put a happy face on it. It is entirely beyond my ken how any woman does it and I am sick to death of feeling like a failure. Being a SAHM is the
everything job, and I can't be great at everything... can't even seem be passingly competent at huge swaths of everything. I keep trying though, and here's the shocker...


Ha ha! No really, I suck at it! The
everything part anyways! Don't listen to those people over there who are saying..."but of course you can't be great at everything! Nobody expects you to!" because those folks are the same people who will give you that "disappointed look" when you screw the pooch on their little patch of everything.

Ya wanna know what really bites? The things I'm pretty ok at are the
intangeables and the unmeasurable. Like the unmeasurable talent of refraining from allowing my head to pop off of my neck and go spinning around like a fizzing-whizzer when LaLa turns around to wipe her green-slug mustache of snot off on my bath towel hanging cozily on it's towel bar, instead of using the tissue IN HER HAND like I had just asked. The intangible talent of... well I have to have at least two mama talents... so it must just be sooo crapping intangible that I don't even have any idea what the hooty-patootie it is.

Last night Dadguy was trying to console my weeping self by coming up with things that I AM doing right. Like how happy the girls are. Only, does that mean that any clinically depressed kids out there just have mama's who are suck-butt at raising them to
be happy? I think that there is every possibility that the Chaos Girls just came pre-mixed to be happy while engaging in domestic-terrorist activity.

Hmmm... here's a talent- I woulda made a pretty good Marine. You know, with all that sleep deprivation boot-camp crap. Constant barrage by the enemy under hostile conditions, lousy food that you only get three seconds to eat, and that with someone screaming at you from over your shoulder. Double-timing it to storytime with a huge pack on yer back, carseat with twenty plus pounds of all-American baby in the crook of an elbow and two kids singing off-color military marching songs, their faces painted with Crayola washable watercolors in camo patterns.

I don't know but I been told,
Mama ain't a slave cuz she cain't be sold!
Thound off! One, two!
Thound off ! Four, sebbin!

Hmmm let's take this just a step further... I think I'd make a wonderful great big old Marine boot camp Sargent screaming orders and instructions to her hapless little grunts.... only they don't obey because who can respect a drill Sargent that looks like a fat and sloppy housewife who's roots are showing?

So today I bring out the big guns. When all militaristic metaphor leaves me as FUBAR as I started, I put it on, my super-hero-chick-shirt. The mystic pink t-shirt of strength and mesmerising. The one that emphasises my big guns!

I put the shirt on and Pearl instantly stops her anguished wails of "You never let me do anything funnn!" and I swear that her eyes get those funny spiraling swirls in them as her iris's contact and swell.

"Piiiiiiiiink... there are black squiggles on the piiink." she says... only she's actually five months old so it sounds more like "bbbbththhbthhhbehhh."

Two year olds fall limply into blissful naptime slumber at the first sight of the shirt, and four year old girls?... well their cute little girlfriends call up and ask them to play over. I wear the shirt and the dishes wash they
ownselves, baby! You can call it pimping, whatever... I highly recommend the shirt.


The Daring One said...

When I read your comment on my post and then started reading this one, I thought you were hawking YOUR exact shirt. I thought you'd decided you didn't want it any more. If there's one thing you're good at, it's making me laugh. This was hilarious. You are one awesome writer (and thanks for the shirt plug). I'm hoping the shirt's awesome power will make it exempt from the boogie wiping?

Lei said...


And I think maintaining your cool is DEFINITELY worth patting yourself on the back for and is DEFINITELY worth noting!!!


Mama D said...

Great post. Really. It was awesome. You make me jealous.

bon said...

DYM- sadly... no. nor is it spit-up proof, and I got spagetti sauce on it in both the cookimg it and eating it phazes. Thankfully, I do have a few meager laundry pre-treating skills.

Lei- did I give the impression that i kept my cool? I'm sorry, I didn't actually keep my cool... just avoided the fizzing-whizzer thingey.

Mama D- What the...? Jealous of THIS? Am I being punk'd?

Crazy and lovin' it said...

I gots ta get me one of them shirts!!!

You are such a crack up. Who taught you to write like that??

I may be asking for some pointers on some of my jolly posts.

Do you charge much for Blog mentoring??

gronce said...

Hey lady! You're rockin' it!

If your girls are happy and well-adjusted, you're doing the important things right. F- the rest!

Pam in Utah said...

Hi, I saw your comment from DYM's site and wondered about it. Fun read. Hope you're feeling better about life and SAHM-hood. I remember the 8 years in a row with nary an uninterupted night in the bunch. Hard on a body and mind. However, my kids have grown up great in spite of the imperfect me, so hang in there. :) Tis worth it. (easier said by one who is almost done!) And nice shirt picture. :)

Nancy said...

You do not suck. You do not! You are an awesome mom who cares about your kids -- it comes out in your writing. Which, by the way, is excellent -- I could sense the frustration in this post, but your humor carried it. The Marine Sergeant drill was hilarious.

And hey, if DYM's shirt has those kind of magical powers to repel dirt and snot and misbehaving toddlers, I'm all for it. We use what powers we can get as moms, don't we?

Take care of yourself. Hope to get my CD off to you this week (sorry so delinquent..)

Anonymous said...

BooBies! And it's Pink!

My gawd, you wouldn't have caught me dead in a pink shirt when we were young'uns, and yet, here we are volunteering for pink because our Girl Chillins love Pink.

My children will never believe me when I tell them my hair was pink.

Yes, babies, Mommy was once a dinosaur...

Amber said...

LOVE IT! Your girls are darling, as are you and really they aren't going to remember gormet meals, pristine houses and perfectly composed mommies. They'll remember playing dressup, making messes and a mom who let them be kids. My new tagline? "Dull women have immaculate homes...."