Hi everyone. I just saw a contest in my local paper. They're asking people to send in their short stories, essays, anything that they've written. The prize is $100 and the chance to write an article every month for their paper.
I wrote this little essay which I plan to send in. I could use some critique. They're looking for something entertaining, something that many people can relate to, something fun. Grammar isn't as important as content, but if you feel the need to correct my many grammatical errors, knock yourself out. ;)
Anyway, here it is. Be honest, you won't hurt my feelings, really. :)
Before I became a momI was supposed to be the perfect mom.
My kids would never have a meltdown in a public place because I said not to a toy.
My kids would never burp at the dinner table, nor would they swear.
My kids would keep their rooms immaculate. They’d help around the house without being asked.
My kids would never shove a Barbie shoe up their nose, nor would they cut their own hair.
Perfect grades in school, perfect attendance. They’d excel at everything will little effort on my part.
My kids would never fight, and they’d never utter the words “I hate you”
My kids would never cry at the top of their lungs in a restaurant.
Sleeping through the night at 2 weeks of age, potty trained at 2 years.
Trips would be a breeze, and my “no” would be accepted without question.
These were not unrealistic goals, before I became a mom.
The day I brought my first born home, I was prepared to make my plans a reality. Reality had other plans.
My wonderful son was sleeping, crying, or pooping. He did nothing else, and he never did these things when expected. I truly believed that a child of mine would be instantly comforted when I put him in my arms. Not so. One would think that after 9 hours of crying, he’d get tired, fall asleep.
He eventually settled into a routine. He slept through the night at 2 months, which I later learned is quite good. Sadly he was a colicky baby, and every bit of food he ate, half would come back up, usually on me.
At one point I was so tired that I almost threw him down the laundry shoot instead of the laundry I had in my other arm. I needed help! This wasn’t supposed to happen when I became a mom.
At the age of 2 he caused such a fit in a store that I had to leave, muttering, “the condoms are in aisle two” to the 3 teenage girls that were staring at us.
At the age of 6 my son burped, his father rated it an 8 out of 10, and since then, he’s been trying to beat his record.
Two weeks ago I went into my daughters room to get her laundry, and I’m very sure that something grunted under her bed. I don’t know whether to call the exterminator or buy a cage and name it.
When Sydney was 3 she shoved a small toy up her nose. Even though I was positive that I knew how to remove it (plug the clear nostril and blow into her mouth) my husband had me doubting myself, so off to emergency we went. Four hours later the doctor came in, plugged the clear nostril, blew in Sydney’s mouth, and out popped the toy. There’s four hours of my life I’ll never get back. That same week Sydney decided she wanted shorter bangs. We now lock up the scissors.
School just ended, report cards have been read. I love my kids, but they’re both going to have jobs with names on their shirt reading “welcome to (place name of outlet here), my name is (place name here)”.
Sometimes I feel more like a referee then a mother. If my kids don’t come inside every hour to tell me that so and so hit this and that, and whosit called her a name, I would get worried that they both may be dead or kidnapped.
When Jared was 1 month old, we went to a restaurant. Half way through the meal he started screaming. Nothing I did worked. He didn’t want to eat, his diaper was dry, and he had just woken up so he wasn’t sleepy. A young couple (no kids) sitting next to us just stared as if I was the worst mother in the world. All I could say was “Here’s my phone number, when you have kids, call me to apologize”.
After almost 4 years of changing diapers, pull-ups, and washing more pants then everyone in my neighborhood owns, finally it clicked and we did pee and poo in the potty. I threw a party. It was possibly the happiest day of my life.
The last long car trip we went on Jared was 4, Sydney was 10 months. It was a 14-hour drive to our destination. At the 3 hour mark I looked at hubby and said, “If you see a cliff, just step on the gas and go for it”.
Every time I say “no”, the response is “why?” I swore I’d never ever dismiss them so casually. I swore I’d never utter the words “because I said so”. The phrase “because I said so”, is spoken anywhere between 30-1000 times a day in my house. The sad thing is, what I say doesn’t seem to matter.
Before I became a mom I had a clean house, I had extra money, I had perky breasts. Before I became a mom I had dates with my husband, I had friends over to play cards, I had quiet trips to the mountains, Germany, Mexico, and Hawaii. I had one dog. Before I became a mom I wore makeup everyday, styled my hair, always wore clean underwear, never opened the door in my housecoat. Before I became a mom I had a slim waist, no stretch marks, no bags under my eyes. Before I became a mom I drove a sporty little red two-door vehicle, I now drive a minivan. Before I became a mom I didn’t have to cook if I didn’t feel like it. Before I became a mom, I had freedom.
OMG, my kids just came up to give me a hug and tell me they love me. I wouldn’t trade being a mom for anything.
