Your ID…Ma’am?

I’ve read somewhere, everywhere, that when you become a parent, your whole identity changes. The transition from not having your DNA breathing, running around, barfing on you and getting into everything, to it doing just that everyday is a bit…bumpy. The person you once were exists too, but as a sort of, quieter inner voice. A hush, almost…

“Did you see that episode of Friends where Joey eats everything in the fridge because it’s broken? That’s you! You’re the fridge! How are your nipples feeling today?”

“Gosh, remember when you showered every day and everyone remarked on how great you smell all the time? Did you buy deodorant yesterday?”

“Let’s go dancing! Ooooooh remember dancing?! It felt good right? All the people, free flowing drinks, great beats? No, not beets, Mom. Beats! Tunes lady! Yeah, let’s do that again! You should buy beets though…”

Sometimes my inner voice says things that result in situations that were once very familiar, but now foreign being the guardian of two small humans:

I went out to a club. Like, out, out. I haven’t been out out in almost a decade.

But not just one stop, no no, that would be half-assing it! A youthful restaurant with a DJ, a bar with live music to follow, then a dance club to cap off the night, all wrapping up nicely at the crack of 3am after visiting the 99 cent (now $1.49) pizza place. Snapchat captured it all in a brief 24 hour story that has disappeared into the bowels of the internet somewhere. Like whiteout for social media. Sigh. Best invention ever.

I’m going to be honest here. I didn’t think I was going to have fun. I have an infant at home with hubby, a high energy 4 year old, and I’m an introvert; so picture a completely exhausted dirty dishpan, and that’s me, except with messier hair, on my good days. AND I was “Ma’am-ed” at the beginning of the night! Ma’am-ed!! Lord give me strength.

BUT

I was in GREAT company. Two of my favourite ladies were out with me, and it was one of their birthdays. The drinks were flowing, the nostalgia was strong as the live band was the same from my early 20s and they were playing 90s jams. We got great seats at the bar for some pretty epic people watching. The conversations were deep and inspiring. My vocabulary and expressiveness increases 100 fold after a few spiked ice teas, and I can spittle at strangers with confidence. Yes, yes, this was a good time. Even when I tried to explain to the bouncer at the club that he really should see my ID as he explained it was 100% not necessary (and I was belligerent, arguing for 90%) it was a great time.

The people were a total mess. Like, the kind of mess where you’re wiping vomit off your shoe that isn’t yours (or your DNA’s), you find yourself sympathizing with the bar tender who tells you tales of the office party that was in there at 4pm that day getting annihilated and limiting career opportunities…

and as I looked on at a girl and a boy who had just met that night, making out on the bar, tongues a-flailing, in front of a packed house, I thought to myself…

I’m definitely a Ma’am alright. Definitely.

That bouncer deserves a raise, he One Hundo P did not need to see my ID. Because you know what, inner voice? Even though you get me into trouble sometimes, you’re right. I DO like dancing, and I’m only sometimes a broken fridge, and dammit I CAN smell good sometimes if I want to! And although parenting the day after this late night adventure was like conducting a marching band of monkeys on ice, it was nice to do something different with my favourite people. Self care is a big deal when you’re responsible for small ones who look to you for balance and love, and laughter, and light. Loving you makes loving them all that much more rewarding. Take it from this tired pigeon. Do you think I should just shred my ID?

Best,

Your Fumbling Ma’am

I Wish Teeth were Good People…

I’ve made the decision that humans should be born with a full set of teeth.

Grown in, ready for a good stomp chompin’ time.

Setting aside the fact an irritable screaming banshee refusing to sleep, eat or play nicely inhabits our home when it’s teething time — and that’s only my behaviour…here are the reasons a mother needs her child’s pearly whites to be fully functional before that cord is cut:

1. They are already just lazily hanging out behind the gum line waiting to poke out and bust through. Like pitch forks. From hell. Nobody likes pitch forks. ESPECIALLY lazy ones.

2. Everything that could ever go wrong in the universe occurs because of a teething child:

– “Oh! Your kid has a fever?”

Teething.

– “Your child has diaper rash?”

Teething.

– “Your little munchkin of love won’t eat?”

Teething.

– “Your little Prince of Darkness is vomiting?”

Teething.

– “You were over-charged for diapers at Walmart?”

Teething.

– “Your baby Daddy wants to see other people?”

Teething.

-“There’s a hurricane in the Gulf of Mexico?”

You get the gist.

3. The molars and eye teeth (Um, by FAR the most painful ones) grow in AFTER you are back to work full time:

I never understood the purpose of concealer until I realized just how dark those circles could get. Like, REAL dark. Like, undead dark. Which is fitting because I feel like a zombie with an office job.

4. Who needs nipples? It’s not like anyone sees them anyway!

5. Because gosh darn it, meal times are so much more pleasant when your small person can chew things into itty bitty pieces preventing the gagging/choking fiasco that happens 4 to 5 times a day. I have several Oscars for “Appearing calm, cool and collected while everyone else is panicking that your child is dying”.

6. It’s a nice thing when the pharmacist doesn’t know you by first name because you no longer have to stock up on Children’s Tylenol once a week.

It really is nice when you’re picking up that embarrassing prescription for you. You know, to still be anonymous.

7. The stress sweats would occur less often, and be relegated to leading meetings for the CEO instead of pretending you are unaffected by the screams originating from those tooth bastards.

8. Faces and bedsheets would be cleaner from lack of barf hanging out on them. There would also be fewer parties in the bathtub at 2am on a school day.

9. Life would be more like a box of chocolates instead of the guessing game: chocolate on the carpet, or poop? Fun for the whole family during teething season!

and

10. Because I prefer to snuggle while not being chewed on. Call me crazy, but my legs without holes in them seem classier in shorts and skirts. Albeit only marginally.

Now, I’ve only listed 10 items here because I’m at a loss for additional reasons.

My brain is obviously teething.

Yours truly,

Fumbling Mom