March 4, 2013 by admin
There has been a lot of talk about being real on Facebook lately in the mom world. About not pretending you’re super mom with a fabulous family. About the truth behind all these pictures we all post about vacations and parties and our kids doing adorable things. And I totally get that. It’s hard to keep up with others and when you’re a parent there is so much pressure to be a ‘good one’ and we shouldn’t pressure each other.
But since the twins were born, I’ve never had so many people so curious about so many personal aspects of my life and I’ve never felt so much pressure to think on the spot. Why is my kid not wearing shoes at the grocery store? Why do I put my kids to bed so early? Why don’t I feed them certain foods? How exactly did I manage to make twins? (Yes, twin moms get asked this all the time. We need to band together and make a potion and sell it.) For me, posting pictures is owning and controlling my life in the best way I can. The pictures are the parts of my life I don’t mind sharing, the parts I’ve taken the time to reflect on, and the parts I’m proud to share. I know that behind every picture is a story. Sometimes good and sometimes bad.
Like this one.
For me I’d love to remember this day as the day we played with Squishy Baff in the bathtub. I love this one moment from the day. We were squealing with glee as the bath water turned to goo and we threw all the toys in the tub and they made a glorifying “splat” as we threw them in. We let the goo flow down the sides of the bathtub like waterfalls and had races to see how fast the goo would go. I felt like this was one of those mom moments I could frame in my timeline of mom moments to cherish. I had a lot of fun with my boys and I know they were having fun with me.
In reality, this was also the day I found a poo on the floor. The day that wrecked my poo-free February record. At least it wasn’t dog poo, but it is definitely horrifying to find poo on the bathroom floor. Even when it’s just a little speck. But when I asked the guys who’s poo it was, they told me that the toilet eats poo and maybe the poo did not want to be eaten. Okay. (I did not take a picture of this one.)
This was also the day I mangled our lunch, and not only overcooked it but the parts that boiled over from the squishy overdone noodles burnt to the stove and I have so much trouble figuring out how to get this off that I tried to burn it off by turning up the heat. But that didn’t work and I think it made it even more stuck. (My mom, however is magical at cleaning this and every time she comes to visit, my stove becomes spotless. I wish this talent was genetic.)
This was also the day my hubby laughed for an hour when he came home to find me trekking back and forth between the bathroom to the garden so I could get rid of the Squishy Baff. Apparently Squishy Baff doesn’t completely dissolve and I didn’t want to find out the implications of draining a glue-y, mushy mess down the drain. (The last time I did something like this, the hubby and I spent a lovely evening together learning how to use a plumbing snake. No pictures of this moment either.) Because of this, the next time we use Squish Baff we’re going to use it in our water table. OUTSIDE.
These were all memories from the day, and though they are funny now, the part I really cherish was the part with my guys where we are having fun together. So that’s why I took the picture: in my books, this is how it happened. This is my reality.
(PS. I always cut out my hideous bathroom tiling in my photos. In my reality, my bathroom is also glamorous.
PPS. Just curious: Would you let the goo go down the drain? I just want to know what other people think as a preemptive poll of rational people for the hubby the next time I do arts and crafts in the bathroom.)