When you first have a kid there’s about a billion things you’re totally unprepared for. In fact, fuck that, I don’t recall being prepared for any goddamn thing at all. It’s all one big fucking surprise, from weird ass baby toenails that just peel off (blech), to bloody nipples, many of these surprises are unpleasant. But we power on because the pleasant surprises are waaay more then pleasant. Can someone say ecstasy? Can someone say life-changing? THAT’S why we do this shit. They’re so goddamn beautiful, these moments, that for some of us, we do it again, and for a few more of you crazy bitches out there, (and by crazy, I mean fucking fearless) again and again and even again.
Some surprises we sort of know about but haven’t actually experienced, and yet what does it mean to “know” something about parenthood? It means you’ve heard a rumor and you’re hypothetically prepared but that’s like the difference between knowing a tattoo is gonna fucking hurt and actually experiencing the PAIN. You can’t truly relate to it until you’re there.
Like the stages of your child’s life, many parental experiences are fleeting thank goodness, (teething) while other last much longer (the instillment of values and morals) and ultimately don’t end until children become adults. The surprise experience I’m writing about is somewhere in-between. It has it’s ups and downs, it can be romantic, endearing, or an annoying fucking chore. It lasts as long as you can try and make it last, but ultimately, your children are the ones who put it to rest.
Yes yes y’all, I’m talkin’ about the Magical Morphing Mommy tonight.
Now, there’s a lot of different kinds of Mommy Magic. You got your “eyes in the back of your head – I see all and know all so don’t even fucking try it” magic, you got your “magical mommy lips that can heal any booboo in the world with a kiss” magic, and the bullshit quasi-magical “I got your nosey“ that only the wee ones fall for.
I’m not talking about ANY of these. The magic I’m talking about is the real fucking deal. The kind of magic that’s got a whole legend to go with it. Intricate lying is required and decades of tradition stand behind it. Mommy Morphing Magic is where YOU become a fuckin’ MYTHICAL ENTITY that childhood fantasies are made of! You ARE Santa Claus. You ARE the Tooth Fairy. You ARE the Easter Bunny. Now these are just the particular holidays I celebrate, but I’m sure there are other “identities” I have no knowledge about that you may assume as well.
Oh haaiii, I shrink down and slip under the door, eggs and all…
yeah, that’s the ticket….
At first I was thrilled with this notion! I mean FUCK! I get to be goddamn Santa Claus?!? That’s pretty fucking prestigious. The Tooth Fairy?? Dope. Then, I began to experience the Magical Morphing Mommy thing and I realized WHY it’s such a prestigious title. It’s because it’s a lot of motherfucking WORK. And, being the imperfect parent that I am, my kids have subsequently learned, year after year, that even those possessing the top tier of magical powers sometimes fuck up. At first I was upset about this, but now, I am accepting.
My daughter currently is less then entranced by The Tooth Fairy. Out of six visits, she has fucked up and flaked three times. She makes it up the next night of course (that fucking lush) but her magic is lessened with each failure. My daughter now pities her and politely tapes her tooth in an envelope to the front of her bedroom door just to make it easier for the dimwit.
Santa’s got a better track record but is getting tired in his old age and has one year even asked to “borrow wrapping paper” which is why her gifts were swathed in the same wrapping we coincidentally had stored in the closet. He also, in his imperfection, goes ahead and puts the cookie plate she leaves out for him in the sink so that our cats don’t knock it over (how considerate).
Even the poor Easter Bunny a couple of times, has suffered memory loss as far as where he’s hidden every egg. He’s a lucky bastard though, as long as there’s chocolate, he can pretty much get away with murder.
Is the position of the Magical Morphing Mommy an honor? Yes. Is it a chore? Sometimes. Was I prepared to assume the duties of these mysterious creatures I once so adamantly admired and believed in as a child? Kind of. Do I have a fucking choice?
Hell to the no.
Bottom line: All these magical holiday motherfuckers are really just me, you, and every other parent who tries and keep the dream alive for the sheer love of our kids. Since we’re not perfect, neither are they. But here is the real surprise, it is really their endearing nativity and willingness to believe that is the real magic after all, and THAT is one brilliant and beautiful surpri
se that makes all this magic bullshit worth it.
Now, where the fuck did I put that beard..?
Keep on with those sugar plum dreams, one day I’ll let you in that it’s was just me and a bottle of Pinot the whoooole time!