I am constantly interrupted.
It doesn’t matter if I just woke up in the morning or if I’m falling asleep at night…it always happens. I had no idea (before becoming a mom) that I would never finish a thought, a breathe, a meal or a sentence again.
If I try to have a phone call with a family member or friend during the day, I usually end up screaming at them, while simultaneously barricading myself in the corner of a room, as if shouting out orders from a war zone. If attempting to settle down for a quick meal, I end up spending so much time negotiating how many bites of food my daughter gets, that it’s like we’re living the closing scene of A Few Good Men. (Guess what? She can’t handle the truth. Because once she finds out that mommy’s special chocolates are actually fine for children, and not full of lethal doses of caffeine like she believes, my game is over).
And worst of all? I never realized that the idea of peeing by myself (without children begging for their eighth meal of the day before it’s 9 AM, or puppies clawing at my legs), would seem parallel in relaxation to an exotic, Bahamian vacation.
The funny thing is that the more my life continues to be interrupted, the less I seem to adapt. Wouldn’t you think that mothers would be on the same playing field as Einstein by now? That our brains would fight back from the never ending re-plays of Dora The Explorer with our toddlers, or curfew manipulations with our teens, and we would emerge as super-powered smarties? We would wake up one morning and mysteriously be able to speak Spanish as well as Handy Manny, win legal cases like the freakishly attractive lawyers on Law & Order, or retain the hours of math homework and science projects we’ve endured throughout the years?
Instead, I often myself trailing off in to outer space, right in the middle of a sentence. After days of wishing I could carry on a conversation (with someone who’s main priority isn’t the sparkle capacity of Tinkerbell’s wand or their library sticker quota for the month), I finally speak with an adult, and end up saying “What was I talking about again?” at least four times. Yes, it’s true. After nearly five years of motherhood (and the significant lack of brain adaptation on my part), I now am unbelievably capable of interrupting myself.
And even though I love my children more than anything else in the world, lately I’ve realized that my brain is trying to fight back. I’ve found myself attempting to blend into the wallpaper (if only Muted Sage camo was part of a mom’s uniform) in an attempt to listen to NPR. Or daydreaming about how nice it would be to sit and read a book that doesn’t involve giant type fonts and characters named “Henry & Mudge” (or better yet, read it whilst urinating alone!)
Even if I haven’t become a super powered, bionic mom with a photographic memory, ABC flashcard eyeballs and eight pairs of arms (which we just might evolve into one day), I still think that every mom out their deserves at least 10 minutes a day to sit by herself, read a book, finish a bite of food, or even carry on an adult conversation. Don’t you?
Because otherwise, we’re going to wake up one day and realize that after all these years we….
What was I talking about again?
Bailey Vincent Clark is the Editor-in-chief, author and founder of Makeover Momma. She talks about Mealtime Makeovers on Monday, “Speedy Advice With Makeover Momma” On Wednesday, and has a weekly column on Friday: “Getting Friendly With Makeover Momma.” If you would like to ask questions, submit concerns or simply chat: please email firstname.lastname@example.org.