Confession #19: I didn't go to McDonald's.

How many days in the week?  Seven.
How many meals in a day?  Three.
Quick math problem:  7 x 3 = 21.
Then, when you take 21 x 52, that equals 1,092.
Add in miscellaneous snacks, drinks, bottles, baby feedings, etc., and that's a lot of shopping for, preparing, serving, and cleaning up after kids when you're at Stay-at-Home Trophy Wife.

I realize that it's all part of this glorious job that I have, but 1,092 feedings for children who don't strive to eat balanced meals is a hell of a lot of cooking....not to mention the complaining from wee ones when something green hits their plates.

So sue me if I take them to McDonald's and listen to them gleefully cheer at their new Smurfs that came in their Happy Meals.  Sue me that sometimes I want an easy afternoon of making lunch.  Sue me.  I don't care. Well, I guess I do kind of care....I hate feeling like a slacker that I couldn't even throw an Uncrustable on a plate and call out, "Lunch is SERVED!"

It's my little secret....at least it used to be.  Once those little boogers became old enough to rat me out to my husband, it became a game of hiding cups and saying, "I didn't go to McDonald's."

Do you know what's even worse than trying to hide a quick lunch in the drive thru from my husband?  Telling your former student who works in the drive thru and recognizes you every...single....time...., "We really don't come here that often.  We just came for the Smurfs.  Honestly."  Even I didn't believe myself on that one.

However, I have figured out that McDonald's calls them Happy Meals for some reason....because this mom drives away with lunch made and satisfied kids....and that makes her happy.  Oh-so-happy....and that's one less meal I'm making this week.

Confession #18: Life is a vacation, and I'm the help.

I'm sure every mom feels overwhelmed by day-to-day tasks every now and again.  I'm no different.  My kids aren't more challenging (at least I hope mine are quasi-normal).  However, I had a revelation the other morning as I was getting ready.  Travel along this journey with me.

You know how when you go on vacation, you sort of act like standard rules don't apply?  You stay in a hotel room, and though you always make your bed at home, you leave these sheets in an utter mess.  You always hang up your towel when you're done with it at home, but in a hotel, you leave your towels -- six to be exact -- in a wet mess on the bathroom floor.

You have all your meals made for you, and you always get to pick what you want.  If you don't like it, you can always send it back.  On vacation, you eat dessert more than you would if you were just at home....it's an extra little splurge, and it feels good.

You have no household responsibilities when you're on vacation. There's nothing to clean, wipe, dust, vacuum, tidy, mow, or launder.  You're pulled away from all of those tasks to live blissfully unaware that such tasks even exist in this world!

While on vacation, you seek to be constantly entertained.  Whether it's movies, swimming, drinks at a bar, golf, people-watching, sunning yourself, you find yourself being entertained and happy....oh-so-happy.

Doesn't that sound nice?  Isn't that why people go on vacation in the first place?

Welcome to the life of a child.  It's just one huge vacation.  How kids feel as though they have anything to complain about is beyond me. 

Child 1:  "WHAT?  YOU WANT ME TO PUT MY SHOES IN THE PANTRY???  WHYYYYYYYYYYY?" 

Mommy:  "Because it's the only damn thing I've asked you to do all day while I've been conquering my mile-long to-do list before leaving the state for 10 days while also managing three kids and all their needs/wants/insane requests.  I would think that putting your shoes away would be the least you could do to contribute to this household."

Child 2:  "You're mean, Mommy."

The life of a child is a vacation, and you can call me Consuela.

Confession #17: I run late.

This confession is short and not-so-sweet.  Now that I have children, I run late.  It's not ever because of the children that I'm running late, it's because of the children that I run late.  This might not make sense yet, so read on.

My personal sense of timing is impeccable.  I know exactly when to get in the shower in order to be ready by 6:15.  I know that I need to be in the car by 10:38 in order to get to the doctor's office by 10:50.  I know this.  I can do this.  However......

I have now realized if I get any place a little too early, I must be the sole entertainer for three children.  That's a tough job some days.  I would rather walk in late somewhere, possibly causing others to be frustrated, than to have to put on a dog-and-pony show for my Trio of Fun (as I affectionately call them) while we wait for Activity XYZ to begin. 

If you're the type that is okay with wrangling the herd while you wait, wait, wait, then good for you.  I'll be at home, making another cup of coffee in my Keurig.  I'll see you when I get there.

Confession #16: I wonder if these tendencies are for always.

Now that I'm with my children more hours than ever, I have begun to notice their tendencies more than I did before.  Sometimes it's a blessing because you fall head-over-heels in love with your child's little mannerisms.  Other times, you pray away the behaviors in hopes that your child grows out of them.

Example conversations people have with each other:

"L really loves to play with her stuffed animals and read about animals."
"Oh, really?  Maybe she'll be a vet."
"Yeah, that'd be great!"

"Q is great at throwing the football."
"Oh, really?  Maybe he'll play football for the Chiefs!"
"Yeah, that'd be great!"

"H is a really happy baby!"
"Oh, really?  I bet she'll have lots of friends when she's older."
"Yeah, that'd be great!"

Could you imagine if people did the same with the less-than-desireable traits?

"L seems to really like to put things in containers and keeps every single thing she's ever gotten."
"Oh, really?  I bet she'll be on 'Hoarders.'  What a pig!"
"Yeah, isn't that great......."

"Q likes to shut cabinets and open doors.  He just can't stand them being open!"
"Oh, really?  I bet he'll be paralyzed by obsessive-compulsive disorder, completely altering his every decision."
"Yeah, that'd be great......"

"H is only happy when she's eating."
"Oh, really?  I bet she gets trapped in her house when she weighs 1,000 pounds when she's 25 years old."
"Yeah, that'd be great......"

As a parent, I get too consumed by my children's tendencies, whether they're positive or negative.  I must stop thinking that every marvelous thing will lead to world-famous status, and I must stop thinking that the little annoyances will doom my child to eternal social exile.  Kids are kids.  They grow in and out of things, and I'm gonna love my children at the end of the day, no matter what.

Confession #15: I'm not very good at guessing.

Fresh from playing a guessing game with my daughter, it turns out that I'm not a very good guesser.  She would draw something, and she would give me 11 chances to guess what the items were.  I failed horribly on these three, and she told me I was horrible and that I wasn't even trying.  Let's see what you think:

Drawing #1: 

I began to wonder if maybe I should be taking her to some sort of therapy on a weekly basis after seeing her budding drawings.  I guessed at least three times on each item, and I just couldn't get my mind far enough out of the gutter to get the right answers.  Let me know what you think, and from here on out, I'm going to be the one doing the drawing.  No matter how crappy my footballs or flowers may be, at least they don't resemble man or lady parts.

Confession #14: I committed a parental sin.

I let my daughter's pants get too short.....and took her out into public.

Please forgive me.

Confession #13: I only like the idea of toys.

Ahhhh....fresh off the thrill of Christmas and on the cusp of my son's birthday, I must make another confession:  I only like the idea of toys.  In all actuality, those little things drive me nuts and only cause me headaches and more opportunities to play referee in my own home.

You're with me, right?  You go to Target in search of the perfect toy for your little guy or gal, niece or nephew, random stranger kid from preschool, etc.  It's amazing how you eye the wares in the toy section and think about how much fun your little person will have with the toy.  You spend lots of time (10 minutes max.) hand-picking the proper Batmobile, Littlest Pet Shop creature, or sand art kit.  It sounds like the kiddo will have endless hours of fun with the selected toy allowing the parents to sit back and enjoy some kid-free moments of bliss.

Reality:  the kid never loves the toy as much as he should.  Reality:  the parents hate the toy more than you will ever know....even if you're the parent who purchased the gift.  Reality:  the little pieces don't matter and always get lost or eaten too quickly.  Reality:  toys seem like fun, but they're really only fun if you drop everything and sit down to show your child how to properly play with the damn thing.  Reality:  who has time for that?  We buy the toys so the kid can spend some time "exploring his imagination".....alone. 

The harsh reality, no matter how much or how little you spend on toys, is that they will never be just right and there will never be "enough," yet there are always too damn many.

Confession #13.  Deal with it.  I've got a birthday party for which I must prepare.....including wrapping another set of toys......*sigh.*