Waterboarding for moms

Another ear infection. I simply cannot take it. Another missed day of work. Another night of screaming, whining and weeping. And the baby's crying too. Dangerous, general unpleasant thoughts about my child. Oh God of the Mighty Middle Ear Canal, Make It Stop, I Beg You.

After deciding I cannot go to work (again), I open the door to the first beautiful day in months. It's 90 degrees outside and far too early in the season for us to have actually excavated the air conditioner from the shed. The cat has left a deceased mole on the front step, in an effort to siphon attention share from the sickly children.

The toddler wants to know why, why, why does the baby cry? Why does he have a boo boo in his ear? Why is he sick? Why does he cry? Why? Why are we going to the doctor?

The elderly 3-legged dog defecates three feet from the doorstep, in the path I use when carrying said baby and toddler with diaper bag, cel phone, purse and water bottle.

And oh year, watch out for swine flu. It's 8:30 a.m. I am a Bad Mother.

Get on Your Ass

Sit down, Mommy!

That’s what he says all the time, my two-year old. He doesn’t mean it in the “stop and smell the roses” sense, he means it in the “sit down next to me RIGHT HERE MOMMY and read me this book / watch Bob the Builder again / tell me a story one more time” sense.

And I try, I really do. I usually say, “I will, honey, I will. As soon as I finish washing this dish / unloading the dryer / paying this bill / wiping the counter / checking my email / changing your brother’s diaper / finding your father’s cell phone…and so on.

But you know this, because you’re a mom. And you also know that you’re supposed to savor these moments when your children want you and need you, because later on, even if they do they won’t admit it. My secret fear is that my kids will grow up while my back is turned washing dishes.

So I’m telling all of us today – stop. Sit down. Sit down, Mommy. Take the time. It’s a cliché but you know what they say about clichés. LA is shallow. Men driving expensive sports cars have small penises. The more money you have, the more you need. Clichés are clichés because they are true. So here’s a cliché for you. It’s later than you think, and the harsh truth is….the laundry police won’t confiscate your hamper if you wait one more day.

Sit down, Mommy. You’ll be glad you did.