Apparently I have become freakishly strong. I don’t know when it happened. But I have the upper body strength of a Russian weightlifter. It is just hard to tell because it is carefully concealed within the undefined bulk of “mom arms”. You may think you are witnessing the ebb and flow of flab as I wave goodbye to my husband everyday. You would be wrong. It is covert muscle.
If you have ever seen/been a mom in pack mule mode you know how this creeped up and happened. I am often weighed down by about 60 extra pounds consisting of: A two year old, his 10 month old sister, two diaperbags, my purse, my waterbottle, and a couple of sippy cups. Or I am at Target, pulling one basket full of my three kiddos, and pushing a whole other cart brimming with food, diapers and wipes.
Anyway, somewhere between not exercising on purpose and eating lukewarm leftovers I have become the Hulk. I broke a lightbulb in my hand a few days ago and shrugged it off as a really old bulb (because, you know, lightbulbs begin the decomposition process as soon as you take them out of the package rendering them quite fragile by the time you replace them…?) Yesterday I broke a glass as I was putting it away. Just crushed it. With my man hand.
The other day at Target I spotted some adorable little socks for our dainty daughter. I was so enchanted by their delicate loveliness that I yanked the first pair of socks, along with all the other socks and hardware right out of the display. I became so flustered trying to catch them before they littered the floor that I also knocked down a nearby shelf. The crash of that metal shelf hitting another metal shelf before falling to the floor brought an audience. And there I stood. Covered in pink socks with a shelf full of tutus and blankies at my feet, holding the pair of socks and the peg that started it all. I felt like Lennie from Of Mice and Men. I just wanted to touch the pretty thing. The stocker nearby was really impressed by my super human strength. I could tell by the way he said, “Uuuuuugggghhhh” as he started to clean up my mess. I tried helping, but out of customer courtesy/fear of the freakishly strong lady, he shouted down my offer.
But the biggest bummer of my brute strength happened today. I pulled out the top drawer of the dishwasher to put the clean dishes away and inadvertently ripped the stinkin thing all the way out. The whole drawer full of dishes came crashing down. Hulk need new dishwasher.
I would like to create a sign for my bathroom. A really Pinteresty looking pretty thing. And on this piece of decorative wall art I would share the revelation I had today:
Motherhood means never pooping alone.