kids ruin everything

My body...ruined - at least in the sense that I'll probably only wear a bikini again if I visit a beach in Europe. No one there cares what they look like, as I've witnessed first hand.

My house...ruined. It's slowly becoming consumed by kid gear. I trip on their junk a thousand times a day even though I'm a "toy minimalist". I don't allow a lot of stuff to accumulate in toy boxes and bedrooms. But still, everywhere I look, my cute home accessories are being replaced by things that light up and make irritating noises.

My tv time...ruined. Now I only get to watch Mickey Mouse Clubhouse and some retarded show called Jungle Junction. I used to allow Dora, but she gets on my nerves. I've got enough Mexicans in my house and if we need to be bilingual, I'll order Rosetta Stone.

My private bathroom time...ruined. I haven't peed by myself in over two years. And if you know me well, you know that I live for my evening bath. It's one of my favorite parts of the day. But now Sofia wanders in almost every night and sits on the edge of the tub saying things like, "Mommy, are you taking a bath? I see your boobies".

My sex life...ruined. At my 6-week checkup the other day, my OBGYN told me I was 'cleared to resume sexual activity'. I asked for a second opinion. "Resuming sexual activity" is what got me into trouble to begin with...twice!

My wardrobe...ruined. The baby weight is gone (insert "Hallelujah Chorus"), but my body parts seem to have shifted into new positions - primarily shifted "south", that is. I ask myself the same question every morning, "When can I start wearing cute clothes again?" Then the Anthropolgie catalogue comes in the mail and I'm tormented again. I don't want spit-up and gravity-defying poop to get on my cute "not-too-momish" outfits. This must be why so many moms give up and start wearing those velour running suits I so despise.

My mode of transportation...ruined. There is no way to look cool while you're driving a minivan. On a rare trip to the store by myself recently, I decided to crank up some Joss Stone and rock out for a few minutes. You know, to feel like my pre-mom self who had great taste in music and fashion. But as I parked the van at Target, I caught another mom looking at me as she pushed her school-aged children in the "mega cart" (while wearning a velour running suit). Her look was one of jealousy that I was shopping alone, mixed with a knowing smile because she, too, used to try and look cool...while driving a minivan.

Going out for dinner...ruined. Now, as we load everyone up in the van, we ask questions like, "Do kids eat free there?" Because every parent knows that when your child, who loves chicken fingers, orders chicken fingers, they will refuse to eat the chicken fingers. If we had the $4.99 back for all the uneaten chicken fingers we've purchased over the last year, we would be rich. We've figured out why smart restaurants advertise "Kids Eat Free". Instead of eating a late dinner at cool downtown eateries like we used to do, you'll now find us eating in "kid-friendly" (I used to hate that phrase) locales with a bunch of retired blue-hairs at 5pm.

All in all, these kids have completely ruined me...ruined me for wanting anything else but to be their mom. They are the most fun I've ever had, biggest challenge I've ever tackled and greatest joy I've ever known. I know my body will take shape again and I'm so grateful for two uncomplicated pregnancies, labors and deliveries. I'm thankful for two healthy babies. Thankful that I've never known the agony of sitting in a hospital room unable to make my sick child feel better. Thankful that God has allowed me to be a mother when so many women ache to hold a child in their arms. Thankful for the privilege of being a stay-home-mom with a nice house to raise our kids in, when so many kids are without a parent and without a home. Thankful for a wonderful husband who shares this burden...I mean, adventure, with me. :0)













(Side note: these kids ruined my annual trip to Dickens Christmas last weekend. That is unforgiveable and will not be tolerated next year.)