Unicorns and Rainbows, Or, What Parenting Isn’t

I think if there is one thing that having kids has taught me, it is that you should never take yourself too seriously, because the minute you do, you’re going to find that you’re taking a very snarky tone with someone while sporting baby vomit in your hair.

I really wish other women would realize this.

Yesterday, I jokingly posted to Facebook that schools should just make kids tough out the cold in a hat instead of canceling. I would think that anyone who has ever met me would know that I do not want any children turning into kidsicles (at least not my own kids). But, alas, I received a very sternly worded reply about how many kids can’t even afford hats. I do believe the unwritten second part of that reply was, “You selfish woman, why do you want children to catch frostbite and lose all of their appendages? Would that make your day better?”

I have no way of knowing whether or not she had baby vomit in her hair while typing her comment, but I’m pretty sure she was wearing a wimple. It was that holy.

Photo found on Pinterest

I was flabbergasted. Where the hell did that come from? Then I saw another post from one of her friends about how people should appreciate the time with their kids instead of bitching about snow days.

Do these people not really have kids? Or, do they have kids who ride unicorns and fart rainbows? If they do, then I was clearly in the wrong line when they were handing out offspring.

After three days of being trapped inside, my children are whining puddles of goo, and no amount of popsicle stick crafts will soothe them. I’m lucky if I can get them to zone out to Sheriff Callie for a half hour. And they love that lasso-toting cat!

No, after three snow days, I will drag them to school and barely slow down to 5 m.p.h. before tossing them out on the sidewalk. I will then do a victory lap, complete with doughnuts, once I clear the school zone. Once I get home, I may even put on Geto Boys and destroy the popsicle sticks Office Space-style.

I wonder if these parents who seem to love every second of being a parent really do. I know that kids grow up way too fast, and that there are horrific things that could happen to my child, therefore, I should cherish every second. And I do hold onto their good moments. I squeeze my daughter tight when she says she wants a cuddle. I play Pokemon with my son and let him tell me about every power and evolution the monsters make. I know it won’t last forever, so I take those times and brand them into my heart. It might make the teen years more bearable to remember them when they were soft and sweet-smelling.

What I do not want to hold on to is all the crap that goes along with motherhood, like telling my daughter to stop picking her nose or asking my son to cover up his private areas. And, honestly, aren’t we all doing each other a disservice if we won’t share those parts of our lives that are less than picture perfect?

Before I discovered the amazing cadre of moms on the internet who fail in a spectacularly funny fashion, I thought I was all alone, screwing my kids up as other women created smart, well-rounded progeny. As I started reading their books and blogs, I saw myself. I laughed, cried and cheered with them. I was encouraged and I realized that maybe I wasn’t raising tiny serial killers. I let go and, in my mind, became a better parent because if it.

I don’t know, but if there are parents who think every moment of every day is a sparkly fun-fest, then more power too them. I just hope they let my kids borrow their unicorn on the weekends.