Posted on September 26th, 2011 in
Daily Mocha

Some people pat me on the back and call me awesome for having 7 kids, while others openly question my sanity and place bets on what year I will plan my great escape to the state mental hospital.
Today, in a moment of weakness, I jumped ship and sided with Team Others. Instead of a mental hospital, I imagined my great escape to be a beach in Barbados surrounded by Miranda, Charlotte, and Samantha.
I bet you’re wondering what prompted this thought? How does one suddenly trade in Mrs. Brady for Carrie Bradshaw? Simply: a broken camera. Or should I say a demolished? Pulverized? Terrorized camera?
Big sister Brooklyn and her sibling sidekicks – Eden and Elijah – apparently snatched my brand new camera from my purse, ran into the bathroom, and threw it into the toilet. Then they snuck into the kitchen, grabbed a carton of eggs, a few sticks of butter, ran back into the bathroom, tossing everything into the toilet – on top of the camera.
Where was I, parent, mother, adult supervisor? Oh, silly me! I was knee-deep sorting dirty drawers and mismatched mud-stained socks in the laundry room, while my children were supposedly napping. For the astute: Yes, they were “technically” unattended. But this isn’t about that.
This is about an on-location, unedited moment filled with dirty laundry and toilet water hands. As I sat on the bathroom floor surrounded by three very remorseful crying toddlers, (who’ve never experienced a bathroom time-out before) one dead camera, remnants of butter, and slimy egg goop, for a split second I whispered aloud: Is this the end of my rainbow?
Parenting is hard. It will spin you out many times, before even considering spinning you back in. There are no time-outs. There’s a universal house rule: Parents must keep going. You’re on constant duty: diaper duty, breakfast duty, lunch duty, dinner duty, laundry duty, carpool duty, the kids are fighting “oh now I’m a referee” duty.
{I know that top psychology schools will say all this is perfectly normal. Perhaps an early childhood education degree, though, would help me to understand the inner working of my kids’ heads.}
The reality is, I love my life, my kids, my husband. Do I enjoy every. single. moment? No. I don’t. Who among you cleans up vomit or washes poop stained Superman undies with a smile? Enjoys bare-hand diving into a toilet to remove race cars, chalk, apple peelings, spoons, or even cameras? Bedtime showdowns? Raise your hands. Speak clearly and slowly. The Council patiently awaits a response.
Why, it’s only a broken camera. I know this. I’ll buy another. My children, my family, the moments, our lives together are irreplaceable. Along with the smiles of firsts, the tears of joys, the constant giggly laughter, I embrace a few bumpy roads and cracked eggs.
{above photo from D Sharon Pruitt} {sponsored links are included in this post}
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