Thursday, March 29, 2007

True Mom Confessions

There’s a blog called “True Wife Confessions” that I checked out a few times, wondering if I could get any ideas for stories. Nothing really seemed fresh and interesting enough for fiction; there were a lot of affairs. And who knew how many women dislike their husbands’ hygiene? I felt sorry for those women. But as for the women who confessed to maxing out credit cards in secret—I felt sorry for the husbands, in those cases.

Anyway, I thought I’d tell you a few of my “True Mom Confessions.” (I don’t have any marital confessions, and if I did, I wouldn’t be posting them here!) If these make me a Bad Mom, so be it. That doesn’t mean I’m proud of myself. (You can tell me your True Confessions to make me feel better, if you want to.)

  • If my child picks up a piece of food off the floor, and it’s actual human food, and it’s from today (i.e. not stuck to the kitchen floor from last night’s dinner) then I don’t sprint across the room to snatch it out of his mouth. I think, “Eh, whatever, he’s already put it in his mouth, what’m I gonna do at this point?” The five-second rule is more like the five-hour rule in our house. I realized it had gone too far when I told Miss Pink to share some Goldfish crackers with her brother and saw she had scattered them on the floor on purpose.
  • I use the TV as a babysitter. In fact, I’m doing it right now. I’m sorry, and I hate it, but it’s the only way to get:
    a) some kinds of things done, like writing;
    b) a little peace and quiet, which is absolutely necessary for my mental health.
    It has been this way since Miss Pink stopped taking naps. Sometimes I fantasize about the day when Miss Pink is in kindergarten all day and Mr. Blue will be in preschool.
  • I look at the poop in a poopy diaper before I close it up. I don’t know why I do this. I certainly don’t enjoy it or anything. But if I am ever called upon to describe my son’s last few poops, I could do it!
  • Earlier this week the words, “Stop waking me up! I am NOT going to get up to get you something to drink!” came out of my mouth, in a not-very-nice tone of voice to boot. I felt awful as soon as I said it, as you might imagine, even though a) I was half asleep, having gotten up too early with the teething baby; and b) she had already woken me up at least three times for things like changing the channel. As soon as I got coherent enough, I apologized. Although I did fantasize about working in a cubicle with NO CHILDREN ALLOWED. I would be married, just CHILDLESS. And I would have more sleep, and more money to spend on SHOES.

All of this confession is another way of saying, your children can be the light of your life and the apple of your eye and all that and they can still irritate the hell out of you. And then you realize what a jerk you can be.

Today, though—today was a good day even though it’s rained all day. Pizza for dinner and Miss P and I are going to see the Disney Princesses on Ice. Today I have no confessions except to say that even when I complain, I really wouldn’t trade any of it.


  1. i imagine if you were in a cubicle w/ no children but married you'd have more sex too! ha ha (not implying anything, i've just learned it's a hell of a lot harder than it would be sans W.)

  2. How significant is that, that I wrote about having more sleep but not more sex? Hmmm, don't answer that question.