When I was a little girl, playing with dolls, I never imagined being a real mom would be filled with sounds of kids screaming “chocolate diarrhea” in the supermarket. I never pretended to convince brothers, who a minute ago were best friends, not to suffocate each other with pillows, or console a stranger because my doll just asked why she had a mustache like a man.
I thought that I’d get to dress sweet little girls in a thousand cute outfits a day. Not dig dirty grime out of two crazy boys’ nails and wipe their sweaty hand prints off every wall in my freshly cleaned house.
I never played pretend that brushing my teeth in the morning was a luxury; and that along with deciding what to make for dinner I would be choosing whether to wash my hair or shave my legs.
I never knew I’d actually have to make a deliberate decision not to go poop because my kids were fighting, and that I may have to make that decision three or four more times before I could actually “let it out”.
I dreamed of a husband who would bring me chocolates and roses to bed. I thought we’d talk about really smart stuff. I didn’t even think it possible that we’d communicate through farts and mouthfuls of food talking trash about coworkers during commercial breaks of television shows made for teenagers.
Don’t get me wrong, I love my husband and my kids. I love being a mom and a wife. But no one told me how it was really going to be. Like how I don’t really want to join the PTA or understand what it even is. And how it will never fail that when I take NyQuil, one of my kids will be up all night with diarrhea. And when my kid starts freaking out, having a tantrum, I don’t know how to stop him. I don’t know how to clean throw up. Loose teeth make me nauseous. How am I supposed to make my kids eat the healthy dinner I just cooked when even I think it looks gross? Or if I do go for a “Girls Night Out” with my friends and have 3 drinks I still have to wake up at the crack of dawn with my kids in the morning and they still expect me to be wide awake and act like super mom.
I thought kids were supposed to be cute and easy…all of the time. They were supposed to love me unconditionally. They were supposed to smell good and help me with everything I needed. I’m pretty sure they were supposed to come with instructions. Sometimes, I really miss my dolls.