amen...times two.

my friend stephanie posted this on her facebook page a while back. and when i read it, i had to go find it for myself. online. see who wrote it. why she wrote it. i needed the entire story behind it.

i think if you have kids, have ever loved a child, ever want kids, work with kids, or most importantly, have ever been a kid :), you should read this. and if you don't yet have kids, and hope one day you do, print this out...put it in your memory box. and you can refer back to it later. because i promise one day you will pull it out and be like, yes! finally. someone understands what i'm going through!!!it's from the washington post. a woman named carolyn hax wrote it. it was in response to something a reader wrote her. which is the following:

Carolyn:

Best friend has child. Her: exhausted, busy, no time for self, no time for me, etc. Me (no kids): Wow. Sorry. What'd you do today? Her: Park, play group . . .

Okay. I've done Internet searches, I've talked to parents. I don't get it. What do stay-at-home moms do all day? Please no lists of library, grocery store, dry cleaners . . . I do all those things, too, and I don't do them EVERY DAY. I guess what I'm asking is: What is a typical day and why don't moms have time for a call or e-mail? I work and am away from home nine hours a day (plus a few late work events) and I manage to get it all done. I'm feeling like the kid is an excuse to relax and enjoy -- not a bad thing at all -- but if so, why won't my friend tell me the truth? Is this a peeing contest ("My life is so much harder than yours")? What's the deal? I've got friends with and without kids and all us child-free folks get the same story and have the same questions.

Tacoma, Wash.

and here is what carolyn wrote back to tacoma:

Relax and enjoy. You're funny.

Or you're lying about having friends with kids.
Or you're taking them at their word that they actually have kids, because you haven't personally been in the same room with them.

Internet searches?

I keep wavering between giving you a straight answer and giving my forehead some keyboard. To claim you want to understand, while in the same breath implying that the only logical conclusions are that your mom-friends are either lying or competing with you, is disingenuous indeed.
So, since it's validation you seem to want, the real answer is what you get. In list form.

When you have young kids, your typical day is: constant attention, from getting them out of bed, fed, clean, dressed; to keeping them out of harm's way; to answering their coos, cries, questions; to having two arms and carrying one kid, one set of car keys, and supplies for even the quickest trips, including the latest-to-be-declared-essential piece of molded plastic gear; to keeping them from unshelving books at the library; to enforcing rest times; to staying one step ahead of them lest they get too hungry, tired or bored, any one of which produces the kind of checkout-line screaming that gets the checkout line shaking its head.


It's needing 45 minutes to do what takes others 15.

It's constant vigilance, constant touch, constant use of your voice, constant relegation of your needs to the second tier.

It's constant scrutiny and second-guessing from family and friends, well-meaning and otherwise. It's resisting constant temptation to seek short-term relief at everyone's long-term expense.

It's doing all this while concurrently teaching virtually everything -- language, manners, safety, resourcefulness, discipline, curiosity, creativity. Empathy. Everything.

It's also a choice, yes. And a joy. But if you spent all day, every day, with this brand of joy, and then, when you got your first 10 minutes to yourself, wanted to be alone with your thoughts instead of calling a good friend, a good friend wouldn't judge you, complain about you to mutual friends, or marvel how much more productively she uses her time.

Either make a sincere effort to understand or keep your snit to yourself.
are you screaming right now! are you fist pumping?! because i was. i started fist pumping when she said, "having two arms and carrying one kid, one set of car keys, and supplies for even the quickest trips, including the latest-to-be-declared-essential piece of molded plastic gear..."

yes! i've been there. i've been the person who stuffs all kinds of crap in my pockets JUST TO WALK IN THE GROCERY STORE FOR SOME FREAKING MILK. and here's the deal. three years ago, i didn't want ANYTHING in my pockets because i wanted to make sure my hips looked small.

but not now. no, not now. now id take gigantic birthing hips (which i have) just so my kid doesn't scream GUMBALL at the top of his lungs when we walk in kroger. because well, let's face it. dad, the dentist, isn't really cool with the gumballs.

me, on the other hand, i'm totally down with anything that keeps him from trying to pull every item off the shelf or better yet, into the buggy when i'm trying to figure out which brand is the better deal with my ziploc gallon sized bag of coupons. picture this. me standing there with about ten coupons in my mouth. ten in one hand, ten between my legs. and then there's pratt. trying to figure out how to unsnap the buckle keeping him in that gigantic race car buggy.

there is really nothing worse than getting to the checkout and pulling out a summer's eve douche that your son has put in your buggy when you weren't looking because you were trying to decide if it's just cheaper to forgo the coupons and buy the generic brand of ditties. (it's not by the way). and to make it worse (as if it could get any worse), the check out guy is like 16. and totally thinks you're old. and apparently, not so fresh...uh hum...down there. kill me. kill me of embarrassment.

so. yes, carolyn. amen. amen sister. and the part about needing 45 minutes to do what it takes others only 15! yes!!! yes!!!! and people wonder why moms are sooo tired and drained at the end of the day! THATS WHAT WE DO PEOPLE. we MOTHER.

okay. i hear my kid screaming, "mom! help! up, mom! out of bed! mom!!" etc.

have great days!

oh, here is the link of the original article:

http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2007/05/22/AR2007052201554.html