I can’t possibly beat the “If You Give a Mom a Muffin” parody that is out there, but wow – this whole adjusting to life with Ben at back-to-school-meetings this week has felt a little bit like chasing my (rather cranky) tail through a Laura Numeroff and Felicia Bond book; except this one is called If You Take Away an UberPreggers’ Co-Parent and it goes a rambly-little something like this:
If you take away an uberpreggers’ co-parent, she may feel like she’s living some of the longest days of her life.
To compensate for the abrupt disappearance of spousal help, she will overload her schedule and pack both road trips and playdates into the same day.
If she takes a road trip to a Science Center in the morning with three children six and under, she’ll be very proud of herself until the return trip when everyone is hungry and super whiney resulting in her little van being nothing short of a freaking road hazard the whole way home as she attempts to drive and control (ha!) her passengers (and her temper – double HA!).
Once everyone is safely (mercifully) home and fed, she’ll collapse in her bed for a quick nap, but only after she’s washed pitchers and gathered up KoolAid Stand supplies since she and a friend are letting their munchkins peddle the sweet stuff to the good people of Hastings later that afternoon.
During the sales extravaganza, she will realize she’d rather just chat with her friend and will be silently shooing the children away from the card table so as to have actual adult conversation while not-so-silently telling all three of her babes that no they may NOT sample any more of the product as they come back to put sticky hands and faces on her as they plead umpteen times for another glass.
Because her brain is so pregnant and desperate for distractions, she’ll gladly do another playground playdate the next morning that will leave her back screaming by noon, but hey, at least she got some more good face time with grown ups!
After herding everyone back to the car and then home, she’ll call her husband to beg for Diet Coke delivery over his lunch break and will then spend quiet/screen time working on Shutterfly books instead of napping.
As a result, she’ll sort of doze off twice later in the day (both before and after supper) and then sleep like poo that night.
The ill-timed naps, however, will give her just the energy boost she needs to get her just-shy of 37 weeks butt to the store that night where upon entering she will realize she has to go back outside to get a cart because it is just that busy and will end up with one so rattly she’s afraid pushing it around might send her in to labor.
Later, at home at least, she will eat an undisclosed number of said cookies (and no bananas).
The next morning, after being up for hours on end during the night, she’ll sneak more cookies while the children are in the other room and do her best to wear her Patience Pants during another long day of “Don’t put raisins in your ear!” and “I cannot understand you when you whine!” and “Would you PLEASE keep your hands to yourself!” (all said to different children, I might add).
After a particularly long 1.5 hours of mid-afternoon whining ending in a potty accident on the kitchen floor (kid, not Preggers) she may realize that her Patience Pants no longer fit.
Of course, this is the night her back-to-school spouse is actually back-to-school for Open House, which means she has to try to fill his King of Bedtime crown all by her lonesome (when instead she just wants to eat more cookies).
And if you take away an uber-preggers’ co-parent for his No.1 job of bedtime, she might just realize the next three weeks of waiting for Baby to arrive are going to contain some of the longest days of her life, which will, perhaps, then shift to longest nights to accommodate said New Little.
Loft House, anyone??