I am a photo taking whore. If it’s happening, I am taking pictures. That’s just the way I am. While I would love to say it’s because I’m artistic, I’m not. Like not even a little bit. Taking pictures is just my way of showing the world the way I see things. And since I’m being honest here, I might as well confess, my vision of things isn’t normal.
So, when I stumbled across a “Photo A Day Challenge” on FaceBook I was all “OOOOOOOOOO at last! A purpose that isn’t just me taking pictures to take pictures!” and I started taking pictures. I’ve been doing the challenge since January. Some days are harder than others, but for the most part, it’s really, really fun.
This week one of my picture challenges was to get a picture of my favorite word. This one took me a few days longer than I expected. I really had to think about this one! I stumbled a few times trying to really find the word that represented me. A word that stuck out, made me feel good and screamed to the world “THIS IS ME!” Then I realized it wasn’t asking for the word that screamed “this is me”, it was asking what word I use the most.
I set off looking around the house for a word that I used often enough to be claimed as my favorite word. That’s when it hit me. The 2 words most often used in our house are “Love” -and not in like that stupid overly done way where you’re like “Oh my gosh I LOOOOOOVVVE this pizza”, but in the real, heartfelt way. “I love you”
“No. I love you”
“Well I love you more.”
“Nope. I love you more”
“Well I love you thiiiiiiiiiiiis much” (stretching their arms out as far as they can go) “Which is A LOT, cuz I’m this tall”
Yes. Love is a word used at least 20 times a day in our home. It just barely misses the #1 word slot for words used by me the most by like I dunno….3? The other word used often and on a daily basis is “Fuck”- and not like “I just saw them fucking” but like “What the FUCK were you thinking?!”
That. Hardly. Seems. Appropriate to announce in front of all of my family and friends. Seriously, I’m pretty sure my Grandma would cry if I proclaimed to all of the interweb that my favorite word in the world is Fuck. (Sorry Grandma)
Besides, the word “Fuck” is not in written format on anything in my home. I checked.-even dug through some books!- It’s not there.Which is weird. But expected I suppose. ****note to self, make a piece of wall art with the word Fuck in it.****
So I announced to the interweb my favorite word, the word most often used in my home is Love.
I wasn’t lying. I just wasn’t telling the whole truth. Which got me thinking about Motherhood and all it’s glory. Why? Well, I suppose partly because Mothers Day is around the corner. But if we’re being brutally honest, that’s all Motherhood really is. A bunch of half truths told to save face in the eyes of others because we’re all secretly pretty sure if anyone actually knew what was going on behind closed doors, they’d have us committed.
I have this theory that moms don’t admit their “dark and twisty” to anyone who isn’t indicted in the “Mom Club”. Once you get pregnant though, don’t you dare get caught in an elevator alone with an overtired mom reeling from her day. Or sit down at a table of experienced moms at a birthday party. Or go to dinner alone with your lifelong best friend who happens to also be a mom. The things that come from those conversations will leave you looking for a scrub brush for your ears.
And your brain. Who am I kidding? When the mom club shares with you the horror that is your future, you’ll want to scrub your whole body to get rid of those stories.
I’m pretty sure the reason no one hears the horror stories before they have children is because if they knew what really happens when you become a parent, people would opt not to breed. Game Over. The world would end. So instead of ending the world as we know it, women follow “Unspoken Rule # 367” in the “Woman Code Book”
That rule is “Don’t talk about poo, blood, puke or how many nights you stayed up crying because you were certain that because the reason your kid had a bad day at school is because you didn’t kiss them goodbye before they left. And now they’re going to fail 3rd grade, drop out of high school and hitchhike across the country on a killing spree unless you’re in the company of other moms.”
The only exception is pregnant women. Because, well…..It’s too late. They can’t take it back now. Might as well share the horror!-er I mean fun.
Someone out there is reading this right now and thinking “HA! That’s not true! Parenthood is the most wonderful experience a person could ever have! It’s all rainbows and butterflies and shit.”
To that person, I say…… You’re probably the one that actually WILL raise the serial killer. Way to go champ!
The truth of it all is though, that in spite of the long nights camped out in an ER covered in your childs vomit. The irreplaceable remnants of your life that were once displayed and are now missing pieces or flat out broken, or the long nights sitting beside them in a steam filled bathroom praying for their fever to break. Even when you’re missing your special date nights and moments of interacting with other adults, the whole mom thing….It’s pretty freakin amazing.
And NO ONE is doing it right.