Two weeks ago, a Sunday strip ran that readers seemed to like. Here it is:
I realized in hindsight I should have saved it for Mother’s Day. But that’s okay, I came up with another one I like (stay tuned).
Anyway, it was fun creating the scenarios in this strip. I just thought of little things I do that my husband definitely doesn’t. The original idea came from a moment of breathing in and sneezing out t.p. dust. Why no one else ever bothers to un-stick that first square is beyond me. Maybe because I’m the only one who changes the roll.
As for the other things:
I do cry at milestone events. Not in a blubbery way, but in a quietly nostalgic “my-baby-is-growing-up” way. I really have cried at every stupid elementary and middle school graduation. I will cry when my older daughter drives (for many reasons). Bat Mitzvahs? Forget it. I will even cry when my younger kid’s feet grow larger than mine (but that’s because I won’t be able to wear her Uggs anymore).
Lunch notes? Check. To my credit, I got tired and stopped doing this halfway through kindergarten.
Eye goop wipe? Check. My kids say I don’t do this, but I think they just block it out.
Two-hour monologues? Check. Every. Freaking. Day. I think I’ve run through the entire Star Wars trilogy in my mind at times like these.
The baby wipe swipe? Check. I need to always be productive, even during red lights. Yes, I have a problem.
And, of course, completing the to-do list on my way to bed. If I wasn’t
obsessive-compulsive detail-oriented before kids, motherhood totally threw me over the edge.
And I wouldn’t have it any other way. Well, maybe not the anal-retentive stuff, but everything else, for sure. Okay, maybe not the t.p. Or the eye goop. Okay, I would LIKE to have it any other way, but most likely it won’t happen.
So I’ll just suck it up and keep doing what I do pretty well…being a mom.