#MomLife — This Is Your Brain. This Is Your Brain on Kids.

By
Meg Wicks
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We’ve all been there. The baby is teething. Or your toddler is potty training. Maybe your spouse is traveling. You haven’t showered in so long that you don’t remember the exact number of days. Did you brush your teeth this morning? Use deodorant? When did you last eat something other than leftover applesauce and goldfish crackers? You, my friend? You’re living the #momlife.

#momlife confessions laughter Nashville Moms Blog

We wanted to be sure that you know you’re not alone. So we pooled our resources. And we created this list of experiences, mishaps, and confessions. We are every mother. Together we can survive this — perhaps with our sanity and senses of humor intact. Laugh. Cry. Commiserate. Enjoy. Celebrate that #momlife! And post your own story in the comments!

You know you’re desperately needing your coffee when you almost pour your child’s antibiotic—to which you are allergic—into your mug instead of the creamer—that you also grabbed from the refrigerator.

Once when my daughter was around two years old (don’t judge me for this!), I had a milkshake that had been left in my cup holder overnight. And it was summer. The next morning, I put it out on the driveway because I didn’t want it to smell up my car, and I was in a huge hurry. When we arrived home from work, my daughter went for the milkshake. Even though I was shouting “no no no,” she wouldn’t listen. So…I reacted. And by reacted, I mean I swung my heavy computer bag at her and knocked her to the ground. Why was that my initial reaction?!

I think the fact that I can’t think of one exact situation means one of two things: I either need more coffee or our life is just one huge #momlife story.

I have stopped caring if my child eats things off the floor. Five second rule, five minute rule . . . it’s all the same in our house! I don’t have the energy to fight it any more.

I took my kids to PDO the other day. And they didn’t have it that day. It wouldn’t be so bad if it was the first time that had happened . . .

Two weeks ago, I put my three-year-old in in fleece-footed pajamas on a cold morning at home because he loves them. It seemed like he had grown overnight. I crammed his feet in the bottom, forced the zipper up, and sent him on his way to play. Meanwhile, I got on Baby Gap and ordered him a size up. About twenty minutes later, I watched him hobbling through the living room, slumped over in a partial crouch because the shoulders of the pajamas were so restrictive. “These had to have shrunk in the dryer,” I thought to myself. I scooted my one-year-old off of my lap and stood to get a different warm outfit for my 3-year-old. It was only then, as the baby cried and reached up for me, that I realized I had put my 37lb toddler in size 18-month pajamas. #momlife
 

My kids believe that balloons and toys at grocery stores are only there for decorations. They are not for sale.

I don’t wash my daughter’s sippy cup every day. #sorrynotsorry

The only sandwich either of my children will eat is a grilled cheese.

My daughter takes a torn up tortilla and guacamole for lunch on MDO days.

We have a a camera in our bonus room (my husband loves home technology) and use it to keep an eye on the kids when they’re playing in there. We’ve stopped our son (more than once!) from doing something he shouldn’t, and he’s mystified as to how we knew. (He forgets about the camera.) We have him convinced we’re omniscient.

My 3-year-old is scared to death of “the voice” on the monitor. He sprints to his bed and hides under the covers. 

I fell asleep at my desk at work the other day. While I was sitting straight up! With drool and everything!! 

I asked the girl at the toy store if she could recommend a wooden strap on toy—instead of a ride on toy. And then I ran away. 

Over the holidays, my children watched How to Train Your Dragon (in its entirety) for three days straight. Because it was almost Christmas and these children are crazy. We  screen time.

I recently told my two year old to shut up. And then refused to share my snack with either of my children. If you need parenting advice….ask someone else—because I’m terrible at this.

We went on vacation back in October, and I was screaming “SHUT UP! Just SHUT UP!” multiple times at my kids by then end. 😔

I just saw our kids’ school pictures and was reminded that I sent my boys to their school looking so jacked up on picture day that all of the teachers assumed we didn’t want photos taken . . . 
 

My son’s diaper came off in his jammie’s. And it was filled with 💩💩. Happy day!!

 
Last night, I thought I screwed my daughter’s bottle top on after filling it with milk. It wasn’t on. And I knocked milk all over the stove where chili was cooking. (Burnt milk smells not awesome.) Furthermore, it spilled down into the drawer of baking dishes below. I cleaned it up—leaving me approximate six minutes to iron all of my older girl’s Girl Scout patches onto her vest and get out the door to her Girl Scout meeting so she could learn about all the cookies she will sell. And I will probably end up stress-eating all of them. 
 

The other day, my son put an old grape he found on the floor in my coffee. I drank it anyway.

I received a 2:30am wake up from a screaming toddler. He was standing and holding what I thought, in the dark, was his stuffed elephant. I grabbed it and held it by my shoulder with my chin. But when I went to pick him up, I realized his booty was bare, and sniffed. Yeah, wet diaper and pajama pants by my face—not a cute stuffed buddy.

Last night, my five year old told me she accidentally got a little poop on the seat of the potty. I instructed her to wipe it off, neglecting to be specific about using toilet paper—or something of that nature. Walked in 5 minutes later to find her bath towel smeared with poop and piled on the floor.

I’m on my third outfit for the day because the baby spits up ALL OVER me every thirty minutes. It’s only 9am.
 

I was on the phone regarding an insurance claim for my son—

Insurance lady: What’s your husband’s birthday? (He’s the policy holder.)
Me: June 25, 2013
Her: No.
Me: Yeah, that’s definitely his birthday.
Her: Ma’am, I don’t think you’re married to a 3 year old.

In my defense, sometimes it feels like I *might* be married to a 3 year old. 

There was that one time I wore my pseudo-authentic shorts that have front pockets—backwards—when I picked up my daughter from school. Then I continued to wear them while she played at the park.
 

I underestimated the size of my (pregnant) belly and got stuck between the candy rack and the cart in the check out line at the grocery store. Awkward stares ensued as I tried to remove myself by jiggling my stomach upwards. Fairly sure people thought I was just chubby. I wanted to yell, “I’m pregnant! I promise!” 

My daughter brought home her preschool pics today. Apparently, I’m old and need glasses, because when I ordered them, I could not see on the proof that the chair says “time out.” Now I’m using white-out on my kid’s pictures.
 

We showed you ours — now show us yours (in the comments)!

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