Mommy's Little Secret

In honor of today’s topic, I’m enjoying a freezing cold glass of Chardonnay as I write.

No, indulging in some wine is not this mommy’s little lie. My secret is that I know most mommies (yeah, yeah, dads too) keep things from their children. They do this to stay sane.

I do this because at one point my life, my living room was overrun with annoying plastic toys that chirped things like “dancing is great!” or “can you find the blue circle?” at inopportune times.

Like, at night.

The middle of the night.

In the velvet dark.

When my husband was traveling.

The toys puppeted the aforementioned phrases as if they were possessed by some deranged happy clown Satan.

I keep secrets because I get up at 6 in the morning to make breakfast and lunch and prep dinner (at the same time) as I dress 2 children, wipe 2 little behinds and answer questions like “Where is my pink tutu?” and “What would happen if I fed the cat the raisin box?” (not a raisin, mind you, the freaking box).

I create little opportunities to misbehave because when I finally get the kids dropped off at school in the morning and get back in the car, I may have forgotten to turn off the kiddie station on Pandora and am greeted by The Little Einstein’s shrieking the ABC’s.

It is enough to send any mother over the edge.

Working mother.

Stay at home mother.

Attachment parent.

Parent who loves when their children play with knives and shards of glass.

I don’t care.

It doesn’t matter.

If you have children, you keep secrets.

For example, sometimes I don’t really have to go to the bathroom.

That’s right.

I say I have to go to the bathroom (even though most of the time I am peeing with a child on my lap or a kid helpfully handing me wisps of toilet paper that wouldn’t make a dent in the urine stream of an ant) in the hopes that they won’t follow me. I sprint there. Or sneak there. And close the door carefully, quietly. And sit.

And check Facebook. Or CNN. Or Huffington Post.

But even thirty seconds of sitting are often enough to get me through the next few hours.

Now, do not think for a moment I don’t enjoy being with my children. I do. If you know me then you know for a fact that I would do anything for my babies. You would do the same for yours, right?

But those suckers can be annoying.

So, I hide in the bathroom like a teenager in high school.

Be thankful I don’t crack the window and sneak a cigarette.

Another confession: I drink coffee in the shower. I do this because most of the time my children won’t bother me in there. Zoe is afraid of the water on her head and Zach is afraid of my girl-body.

Therefore, the shower is a safe zone.

Consequently, I am veryveryvery clean and veryveryvery caffeinated.

Finally, errands take on a disproportionate level of importance and immediacy (if my husband is home):

“I must go get sponges immediately. We are out of them. I can not start tomorrow without a tool to properly wipe my counters!”

I get in the car, alone, and play some Bruno Mars The Other Side so loud that my ears fall off and on to the floor next to the Princess sippy cup of old milk.

And, you know what? After I finish these little secrets, I’m happier to be home.

Because this mommy needs her time.

This mommy needs her time so that she can be rockstar mommy when it’s not her time.

Any secrets you want to share?

I promise not to judge.

But just one second, ok? I have to go to the bathroom.