Tag Archives: Moms

Ever since my daughter (the smartest and most beautiful daughter ever) learned to walk she’s become like her daddy – unable to sit still for two seconds.  She’s fearless and adventurous you have to love and admire that about children.

Her boundless energy trumps mine on any given day and if I stayed up late one night so I could watch something one TV other than The Wonder Pet she exhaust me at the morning diaper change with the kicking and wrangling needed to get her into dry pants. The morning in question just happens to be one of the late night TV mornings and I wasn’t at my most perky.

I managed the diaper change and even breakfast without falling over from exhaustion. After the smartest most beautiful girl in the world was done eating, I decided to turn on some morning cartoons for her and try to catch a few more minutes off light sleep. This happens a lot with both my husband and myself. We are after all geriatric parents (a term the medical profession assigns to anyone over 35 who dares get pregnant).  Please don’t worry about her safety during these naps, everything is child proofed beyond what is normal. We are overly cautious even by our strictest friend’s assessment.

My daughter usually doesn’t seem to mind that mommy and daddy has popped off to dream land and plays with her dollies and trucks while we catch a few extra minutes of sleep.

Occasionally her play involves tucking us in and I’ll wake to find her blanket wrapped around my shoulders and all of her babies tucked around my legs. I choose to think of this as tucking in and not burying the deadbeat parent.

Some mornings though it’s hard to ignore the notion that you’re in fact being buried alive in a desperate bid for some attention. This day was one of those days. On this day I knew I was being told that only a shitty mommy would leave Dora the Explorer to babysit their precious one while she snored on the sofa.

Believe me the message that I’m a shitty parent was received loud and clear because I woke to find my face framed by a Dora potty seat. My chin cradled in the splash guard I peered up through the opening into my daughter’s smiling face. Almost like she were mocking me.

Part of my brain was thinking, “how funny is this?”  And the other part was wondering when the last time the potty seat had been washed.

I quickly removed the offending toilet seat. And sat upright so that if I did fall asleep again she wouldn’t be able to frame me with the seat unless she became adept at ring toss.