Thursday, March 18, 2010

The nature of a mother...

I think the natural mother's brain is just a piecing together of random partially-working brain-like matter (which could in fact just be baby food molded into brainy looking globules). 

Do you know how I remember what day it is?  Usually it's because the day coincides with a random event such as my milk expiring, my husband's paycheck making an ever-shortening pit stop in our bank account, or a pediatrician appointment.  If for some reason I'm granted a short yet enjoyable reprieve from the revolving door known as Dr. Boullanger's office, I forget what day it is.  In fact, I've actually forgotten what month, and even what YEAR it is.  And not one of those 'accidentally writing 2009 on all of January 2010's checks' kind of forget.  I mean I actually wrote 2003 on a check recently.  Yeah.

Couple that with the constant sleep deprivation, and the ping pong game known as "do I want another child?" and you've got the fixin's for a genuinely BSC lady. 

How many times a day do I waffle between "I want more kids" and "I'm done with kids"?  Exactly the same amount of times that A goes from smiling to throwing a massive meltdown.  Soooooo around 5,398,238 times.  When he first wakes up and is still in that beautiful tired, cuddly and QUIET phase of the morning, I can't imagine my life without at least 10 more of these cute little blessings.  Exactly 4 minutes later when the tears start, accompanied by "bekak, mama!  mmmmmmilk!  nana peez?  NO mama go!" (translation: breakfast, mama!  get me some milk!  can I have a banana please?  no, don't go into the kitchen to get these things, make them appear in my hand through magical mommy osmosis!)  I decide 2 is enough.  Then E giggles at A's fit and I need more kids.  Repeat this process over and over and over again and by the end of the day not only does my head hurt, but my uterus and ovaries do too.

Sometimes I wonder if God's just really bored up there without TV and uses poor unsuspecting mothers as his own personal sitcom. 

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