Tuesday, December 27, 2005


I generally consider myself one. A wimp, that is. I can't handle pain very well. I had epidurals with all four pregnancies, which was wonderful, but avoidance of any pain nonetheless. When I'm sick it's the end of the world. I have a horrible gag reflex, and can hardly even clean up my own child's vomit without doing so myself. Changing diapers has become a balancing act between holding the scented wipe to my nose and cleaning up the dirty deed. I can't watch surgery shows on tv, let alone think too long of my sister (she's a surgeon) actually operating on someone. In all reality, I am a wimp.
But, motherhood is not for wimps.
This realization hit me suddenly yesterday as I was scrubbing excrement out of the bathtub. (WARNING!) You see, Ian had somehow completely melted a Christmas chocolate I didnt know he even had, then proceeded to eat it. But it was melted. So, instead of going into his mouth, it dripped all over his body AND the couch.
"AAAAGGGHHH!" came my alarmed response. I whisked him up to the tub. No sooner was the tub filled and water off when I noticed a floating brown substance. "Ian, I thought I got all the chocolate off you already."
He just looked at me with a big grin.

It wasn't chocolate.

"AAAAGGGHHH!" came my alarmed response. So, I lifted him up out of the tub by the armpits, naked body dangling in the air, only to find his chubby little buns had been concealing much more of the "brown substance" than originally estimated. I sat him in the sink, which made him laugh, while my mind raced to find the best course of action. The "substance" was now not only in the tub, but dripped accross the bath mat, the floor, the counter, and now fermenting in the porcelain bowl where my jolly son sat.

Jump to 45 minutes later.

As I'm scrubbing out the tub as hard as my arms will manage, the realization hits me: I must not be a wimp, because motherhood is not for wimps! But, I am a wimp. And I am so often. I guess I will continue to live in these parallel universes, where I am and am not a person who can handle difficult and often disgusting circumstances.

Jump to 20 minutes later. I find Ian squealing with delight as he rolls peanut M&M's down the arm of a chair, watching as they flip off the end and fall with a bounce on the carpet. I walk around the chair and discover a very large pile of M&M's on the floor.

Jump to 25 minutes later. Ian is trying to be very helpful and carry his soup bowl to the counter. Never mind that it's not empty yet. (All mothers know right now what I spent the next ten minutes doing.) I was able to maintain my peace of mind and, rather than get upset with him for making a very big mess, thank him for being so helpful. He smiled, hugged me, and said, "Yur welcome."

Motherhood is not for wimps.
Share this: