Motherhood. The purest, rawest, most primal form of survival.
I hope some of you out there can sympathize with me.
This is more real than reality television. This is the ultimate episode of "Survivor". Except that you don't win a million dollars after a month, you can't chalk up your untidy home to "living in the wild" and you can't vote off your children when they drive you nuts.
And you do it all on three hours of sleep and with a smile.
Have any of you found that "survival" has meant that you do things you never dreamed of doing? We all had beautiful ideals of surviving gourmet organic homemade foods at every meal. Reality check - your two year old would eat an entire box of Kraft Dinner, if you let him. We all love the idea of rising before our kids wake, so that we've showered, dressed, enjoyed breakfast, and prayed for strength and guidance throughout the day before they get up. Cold , hard truth - how many pajama days have you had this month? I lost track, but Colin is starting to think his Lightning McQueen pajamas are just fine to wear to the store - and so am I! And all of us have vacuumed today, dusted this week, and have no dirty dishes in the sink. Yeah right - I just pulled a dirty diaper out from under the hope chest - and I don't know when or how it got there. But it might be the answer to that stale smell...
Okay, fellow mothers. You may not be guilty of the same survivor techniques that I am - but I'm sure you've all got enough tales to tell to write at least a novella, if not a full-blown novel. My motherhood war stories would rival Leo Tolstoy's War and Peace. All I can say is: let's be sure to band together and realize that the only way we'll keep our sanity (if you haven't lost it already!) is if we throw off the shackles of appearances and realize that we're mothers now. Embrace the toy cars underfoot, the juice spills on the floor, and the fact that your nice sweaters are either going to be stained from spit-up or remain hidden in the closet forever. We are mothers! We are a force to be reckoned with, whether we make it out of our sweats and pony-tails or not.
I will survive!
PS: Honey, we're having Kraft Dinner tonight.