It’s that time of the year again. That time when we put every Mom up on a pedestal and pay homage to them and everything they do for us. Where we go out and literally spend 1 MILLION dollars (actual statistic) on things like cards, chocolates, flowers, and edible underwear. The edible underwear being for the mother of your children, not YOUR actual mother. Well, dangit, this year I’m making a stand. I’m going to come out and say it:
Moms are overrated.
Woah, now! Ha ha! Just kidding! Jeez. I can just see all the moms out there shaking with rage, looking around for something to smash. And all the dads slowly backing up and looking around like “Hey, now, I don’t know this guy”. But relax, I’m just yanking your chain. That statement was designed to make the rest of this blog look better. I mean, really, I could say “Aww, poor Hitler. That guy was just misunderstood” or “Jeffrey Dahmer was a brilliant chef” and it wouldn’t be as bad as “Moms are overrated”, right? So it’s all downhill from here! Or uphill. Whichever means “it can only get better”. That’s a tactic I use a lot in everyday life, and I suggest you try it out as well. Observe:
Me: “Honey, Billy is getting married. Can I go to the bachelor party?”
Wife: “Where is it, who’s going, and what are you going to be doing?”
Me: “Well, it’s in some abandoned building downtown, a bunch of young, single dudes you don’t know will be there, and we’ll be doing body shots of tequila off of some hot strippers.”
Wife: “Over my dead body.”
Me: “Ha ha. Just kidding. It’s at Rick’s house, the usual dorky friends will be there, and we’ll be sipping wine coolers while watching sub par, out of shape strippers play Monopoly (Star Wars edition).”
Wife: “Have fun.”
See? There’s still going to be booze and strippers involved, but since I opened up with a terrible scenario, the real scenario didn’t seem so bad. Works every time. And I don’t feel bad because she does the same thing to me:
Wife: “Babe, you like my new jeans? I got them for $300 from Alloy.”
Me: “SAY WHAT??”
Wife: “Just kidding, they were only $50.”
Me: “SAY WHAT?”
Anyway. What am I doing here? More importantly, what are YOU still doing here? Oh yeah, moms. Mothers day is around the corner, right? So I wanted to chat a little bit about what makes the mother of my children so great, and why I can honestly say I’m in awe of her.
1) My wife has completely and utterly given up her privacy.
See, when I go to the bathroom, whether it’s to do business (AKA #2) or take a shower, I can lock the door for a good 15, 20 minutes and be completely fine. Sure, maybe I’ll see little fingers poking under the door (“Daddy can you see me?” “Yes, go away”) or sometimes the kids will slide papers under the door (“Daddy, I colored this for you!” “Thats nice, busy!”) but for the most part I’m hunkered down in there with the fan on and the door locked and I’m in a happy place.
The wife, on the other hand, has given up on locking the door because the kids will just pound on it like tiny, rabid, disease bearing zombies. “Mooom! Moooom! I need this! I need that! I hurt this! I hurt that!” So now I’ll walk by the bathroom, door wide open, and there’s my wife sitting on the pot with our 2 kids offering to wipe or something. I have no idea why they’re in there. But they are.
2) My wife treats every ailment that befalls the kids as if its life threatening.
See, I graduated from the school of “Rub Some Dirt On It” and took some classes at the University of “Walk It Off”. The kids come to me with some minor scratches or some weird itchy throat that usually strikes at bed time (AKA stall time) and I admit I’m a little quick on the “deal with it” trigger. The wife, on the other hand, is the opposite. She’s quick with a band-aid, right there with the cough syrup. Or neosporin. Or tweezers. Or gauze. Or butt creme. Or whatever else the situation calls for. There’s been times when she takes the kids to the doctor when I would not have even considered it. But I will hand it to her, her motherly instinct is usually right. Sure, the receptionists all know her and our kids by sight (“Oh, hi Mrs. Vandiver. Who is it today, Presley or Aevin?” “Aevin today”. “Yeeeah ladies, pay up!”), but hey, not her fault our kids got her immune system!
3) Even with kids up her behind, she still maintains a well-run home.
I work. The wife stays at home with the kids (well, my daughter is in 1st grade). And under no circumstances would I EVER switch roles. She also baby sits her nephew, who turns 1 this month. Yet I always come home to a clean house, happy kids, a kept it together wife, and an idea as to what dinner might be. What more can a man ask for? I never come home to a mess, never come home to a madhouse. I have NO idea how she does it. Personally, on my days off I’m usually frazzled. I’m freaked out like “Oooh kay, guys. Lunch break, what do you want to eat?” “Dad, its 9:00. We haven’t even had breakfast yet”. “Good Lord.”
4) She’s a prisoner in her own home.
Well, not literally. I mean, the sheriffs took the ankle monitor off of her last week, so she’s free to come and go as she pleases now. But the thing is, the kids freak out. She has to give them at least 24 hour notice if she plans on leaving them, and then remind them several times during the day. And then its a hug/kiss fest trying to get out the door. And when she comes back ,you’d think she’d just destroyed the first Death Star or something, with cheering, confetti falling from the sky, music, and a medal. “Moooommmmmy!!” In the meantime I’m lucky to get a head nod “sup dad”.
In all honesty thought, she deserves all the attention. And credit. Without my wife, I have no idea what we’d do. Without her, we’re Hootie and the Blowfish without Hootie. I mean, really. Hootie went and became “Darius Rucker” and is ruling the country charts (or so I’m told) and what are the Blowfish doing? Probably wandering around aimlessly, growing beards, drinking milk out of the container, and swearing at strangers, Ron Burgundy style. And that’s exactly what I’d be doing. My kids would probably be living with my parents (who, by the way, did an awesome job raising me and my sister. Thanks, Mom! Love you! Oh, hey Dad. Pat on the back for you too. Just the way it is, pops, what can we do?). And the really amazing thing is, is that my wife battles her own illnesses and ailments. She has her own problems and worries. Yet she always puts her family first. She puts US first.
So that’s why I think Moms are actually UNDERrated. I mean, yeah, without them we would not have been born. Duh. But if your family is like mine, the Mom is the center of it. The calm eye in the tornado of life. The rock on the sandy shore that holds back the crashing waves of life. The hot glue that keeps the googly eyes on the paper bag puppet of life. The little plastic thingy that you put on a bread bag so that the bread doesn’t get stale…in the….uh…air…of life. I’m on a roll here!
Don’t get me wrong. I do my part. I DO help. Tadpoles need catching? I’m your dude. Kids wanna wrestle or play? I’m on it. Kids need disciplining? I got your back. Bills need paying? Handled. We’re a team here. A band, if you will. But I recognize I’m but a lowly fiddler in this band. Mommy is on vocals and lead guitar. And she rocks!
So, honey, this Mother’s Day, you go out. You do you. Take 30, heck, maybe even 45 minutes. I got this. Get your nails done. Have lunch with a friend. Go shopping. Heck, buy yourself a pair of 50 dollar jeans. Lord knows, you’ve earned it. Just do me a favor.
Leave your phone on.