Dolls Dont Yell Chocolate Diarreah

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.

11 thoughts on “Dolls Dont Yell Chocolate Diarreah

  1. I sent this to my about-to-pop pregnant coworker who soon will be a Mother of TWO boys under the age of 3.

    I told her it was too late for her to back out, but that she’s appreciate what you wrote.

    She started out shaking her head at the thought of having to “dig dirty grime out of two crazy boys’ nails and wipe their sweaty hand prints off every wall in my freshly cleaned house.”

    But then I heard her laughing out loud by the end of it.

    While you didn’t really give her hope, I think you made her feel a little more normal. HAHAHA…

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