Friday, March 12, 2010

Mommy superpowers

You know that arcade game of whack-a-mole? Some days that's what life feels like around here.

The one-year-old has just figured out the child-safety lock on the cabinet under the sink. Meanwhile, the 3-year-old has put his Spiderman rain boots on and let himself out into the partially fenced back yard to find his "racing cars."

The one-year-old is about to climb on the table and grab a knife while the the 3-year-old is starting the launch sequence for meltdown over a dropped fork.

The one-year-old has just pooped while the 3-year-old is in full-on poop posture and resisting efforts to get him to the potty.

The one-year-old is bumbling around on a slide platform 5 feet off the ground while the 3-year-old is trying to mount the swing on his own, alternately refusing and begging for help.

Some days I hardly know which child to save from himself. And with a third one on the way in about month, I'm starting to panic. What I really need is a set of superpowers beyond the ones I already possess. I have the super hearing which allows me to wake from a dead sleep when one child lets out a lone cry in the night and drifts peacefully back to sleep (meanwhile, I'm wide awake for the next 30 minutes). I can function on six hours of broken sleep and very little food (thanks to B vitamins, caffeine and Luna bars), lift both children if I need to, tell exactly when my son has to poop, get more done in three child-free hours than most people can do all day and still manage to get dinner on the table by 5 every single night.

But my wish list begins with having the arms reach of Mrs. Incredible, the Stretch Armstrong of our day. That alone would save me the trouble of deciding which kid to stop in his tracks.

In my mommy tool belt, I need a remote control with a mute button for each child, fast forward button for the witching hour and a rewind button for do overs (like tantrum prevention, spilled milk and snacks, and when mommy says a bad word that then comes tumbling out of the 3-year-olds mouth). A magic enema wand would be just plain fantastic -- to ensure that all the poop comes out in one sitting so we're not held daily hostage by an exceptionally stubborn little pooper.

And I really want my husband's daddy super power: the ability to honestly say that, no, he didn't hear the children screaming in perfect harmony at 2 a.m.

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