I started writing this blog while we were in West Texas for the Christmas holiday. I titled it “All I want for Christmas” and initially opened with some sarcasm about gingerbread houses and tantrums. But then ya know, I had two tiny humans to keep alive in a dangerous unchild-proofed home with beautiful expensive adult things in it, and my Christmas wish list went up in flames. My list did not include Kendra Scott or Hunter boots or massages or laptops, which btw, in a twisted terrible wonderful turn of fate, I got ALL those things. I wasn’t supposed to. I was supposed to get a can opener or some other necessity turned gift. But no, the husband had other plans.
The thing is we had decided sometime around November 20, 2012 (my son’s day of birth) that we would stop getting each other (and everyone else we know) big gifts cause well babies eat all your money. This year I got my husband underwear. And deodorant. I’m not joking. Well Christmas morning comes around and my better half rolls up like jolly ole Saint Nick and starts handing out fucking computers to basically his whole entire family. Not really, I’m the only one that got a computer, but I was not the only one on Santa’s nice list and everyone else got surprise gifts I knew shit about too. Then on top of all that, my in-laws were also way too generous and before I knew it I was basically Kim Kardashian on Christmas morning.
While all those things were wonderful Christmas surprises, the list I drafted that week did not include a single material item. When we got back home and I looked at my non-published Christmas wish list, I realized that all of the things I wrote about were not wishes I only dream about enjoying on December 25th, but things I want 365 days a year. So here it is, my Christmas list turned mama wishes. It’s legit.
Sleep. My in-laws offered to babysit the other night so we could go on a date. Woo hoo! Except not really cause while the date was fun and enjoyable, coming home blitzed on top of already being sleep deprived didn’t work out so well for us when our kids woke up at dawn ready to rumble. I always say to my husband why in the hell do we do this to ourselves. What really needs to happen is an overnight sitter who sticks around until at least 9am, but who the hell has the resources for that! Oh, Kim Kardashian.
But seriously, when I say I want sleep, I don’t just mean like my husband let’s me sleep-in. That never works out so well for me. Instead I lay in bed listening to my oldest scream about waffles and my youngest keeps coming to my bedroom door trying to turn the handle while saying “mama” in the saddest little voice in the history of ever. I want some deep sleep hair smooshed on my face shit. No tiny humans allowed within like the whole city of Austin. I know, that’s a stretch, but a mama can dream. And if you’re still reading this and you don’t have tiny humans well stop telling me how exhausted you are. It’s rude.
Hot coffee. This is directly related to all that sleep I never get to enjoy. If it weren’t for coffee I’d never be able to keep everyone alive so well. Ok, so mediocrely. But seriously, so much shit happens between my coffee being brewed and it actually going down my throat. Someone craps their pants. Someone needs more waffles. The doorbell rings. The dog goes ape shit. Everyone’s crying. Someone craps them self again. Someone is licking the toilet and unrolling all the toilet paper. Before I know it, it’s naptime and I find myself standing at the kitchen counter scarfing down the second waffle my kid didn’t eat and finally sipping my cold ass cup of Joe. Now if someone wants to gift me 30 minutes to sip my coffee in peace well I might just accidentally make out with them. Or one of those Yeti coffee things everyone keeps talking about works too. I’m not picky.
A sick day. Oh how I miss the days where I called in sick and watched movies in bed all day. These days I feel like I might be dying and I still don’t get to lay in my bed. Tiny humans still have to be fed and changed and entertained and could give two shits about my head pounding. In fact, it’s those moments when they expect me to build the Taj Mahal of effing block towers. Parents don’t get sick days. And that’s a pretty universal statement whether you work full-time or keep germy kids alive full-time, the sick day never really works out for you anymore. If you stay home, there’s no daycare to send your kid off too. If you work, you don’t have any sick days left because you used them all to stay home with your sick kid instead. It’s a lose-lose situation for everyone involved. Even the dog.
To complete a sentence. Child-free people really don’t fully appreciate their ability to hold meaningful, complete conversations. They’re just sitting around talking about life and using big words without even thinking about it. When you have tiny humans, they hear you speak language not in the form of a song and they purposely need all the things immediately. And even if they can’t think of something they need, they just repeat your name for eternity.
If that weren’t tough enough, then you have some kid-free time and your brain is still in Daniel Tiger land. I remember going to watch Selma with some girlfriends and after the movie they delved into a beautifully deep conversation about racism and humanity. I was sitting there nodding and smiling while “groooown ups come back” played on repeat in my head. These days I need like kid-free time to mentally prepare for the adult conversations I need and want to have at my next kid-free outing.
Silence. This one is really connected to all the others. Silence over the monitor means I can finally close my eyes. Less tantrums and more sitting means I can finish a cup of coffee before 2pm. And dinnertime without loud noises and flying food means I can actually complete my thoughts about that episode of Making a Murderer we watched the night before instead of debating with my toddler about eating his vegetables. Just kidding, he doesn’t eat vegetables. But more than anything, I just want the idea of silence back in my life. Tiny humans are anything but silent and when they are it usually isn’t a good thing. I’ve talked about this before, you know that whole Silence is golden phrase. Yea, silence is totally golden, unless you have a toddler. Then silence means you better go find him fast. But seriously, sometimes I just want to hear nothing and be still in a fucking moment.
I could totally type 2,000 more words about all the things I miss and wish for throughout my day, but then I’m sure some internet troll would tell me I’m basically wishing away my children. Cool judgement asshole, but allowing myself to miss my former life actually makes me remember to take care of myself. And giving myself a moment of peace, whether through sleep or coffee breaks or adult conversation actually makes me a better and more present mama. Yes, I miss the quiet, calm and rested days of my pre-child life, but I also love every second of the crazy, loud and caffeinated days I live now with my tiny humans. Ok, maybe not every second, but I was a person all by herself before I became a mama and that girl needs a little love sometimes too. So tell me, what do you wish for mamas?