When You Mom So Hard…

Today I literally mommed so hard I smelled like corn chips.


I was in the middle of some deep, dreamless sleep, drooling like a puppy onto my Egyptian cotton sheets when my kid startled me awake by tapping me on the temple.

“Mommy. I neeeeeed breakfast right now,” she said. I looked at the clock. I slept in again. Crap.

“Okay, okay,” I said groggily, swatting away her hand. “I’m up.” I stumbled down the stairs with one eye opened, served microwaved mini-pancakes for breakfast, and choked down day-old coffee. Once I was adequately caffeinated, the late-start morning routine looked like a circus on speed. Little people were running half-naked, dogs were dancing on their hind legs, waiting for morsels of food and attention, husband was walking a tightrope between all the living things, trying not to get syrup or slobber on his freshly pressed suit, and I was the acclaimed ring mistress at the center of it all.

At that point, I could feel the underneath of my arms moisten. Yes. I said moisten.

After my husband and oldest child headed off for the day, the toddler and I meticulously built a six-foot-tall rainbow Lego tower. Well she watched and chewed on some Legos while I built. Then my half-blind Beagle knocked it over and the toddler cried, so I quickly built it again.

My pits were no longer only moist, but the underarms of my shirt were sticky too.

Then I watched an episode of Shameless during the toddler’s nap while elliptical-ling. Yep. I multitasked the shtuff out of my kid-free time. BOOM. I washed the dishes without breaking any (a feat any day with my butterfingers), mopped the floor whilst calmly shooing the dogs to stay away (thanks to my stress-relieving kava tea), and did two loads of laundry. That’s washed, dried, folded, and placed in a basket until further notice. I don’t bother putting it away, because that, my friend, is a total waste of time.

Sweat was sticking to that…place. You know the one, ladies.

After that, I chased my oversized Double Doodle past two houses, and three acres, down the street in the pouring rain (because it always rains after I mop). The dog, a muddy mess, was chasing an elderly neighbor with a cute little fur-ball of a pup. They were wearing matching rain coats, for God’s sake. I knew he only wanted to play, but their faces were all twisted in terror so I figured it would be best to rein him in before he tackled the frightened pair in a puddle.

When the toddler woke, I corralled my dogs into their kennel, rushed my oldest daughter to dance practice, and shimmied her sweaty legs into tights in the ‘cozy’ bathroom stall.

That is precisely when I noticed the unpleasant smell coming from under my arms – I forgot deodorant.

I know what you’re thinking, but seriously I wasn’t even embarrassed. I had done enough for the day. If the worst thing I did was forget some personal hygiene, then I’m pretty sure I was momming like a master.

I smelled like corn chips and owned that shit like Mary Catherine Gallagher – superstar! I wore my stink like a Girl Scout badge, or a Supermom cape – with pride. I talked with my hands flailing in the air like those inflatable tube people at the car dealers. I let my stench fill that tiny closet of a room with moms and dads piled in like tuna in a can.


Photo courtesy of Seth Doyle/Unsplash

Categories nonfiction, UncategorizedTags , , , , , , , ,

10 thoughts on “When You Mom So Hard…

  1. You just wrapped up 8/10 days of my life. This is great! I loved ever second of it!

    Liked by 1 person

  2. That’s some hardcore momming right there, D! I can’t relate to a lot of the piece, cuz: childless, but I chuckled a lot. Especially the sticky parts​. 😂


    1. They aren’t too gross, are they?


      1. Lol nope! All women know of which you speak. Hehe

        Liked by 1 person

  3. brockbuildersteel May 18, 2017 — 7:37 am

    Before’ Just today, blow out of the house with my breakfast between my teeth, a Hawaiian biscuit at 4:10 pm. off to the doctor, wife says honey you forgot your deodorant, I took a self inspection whiff, but I washed, must not be dry enough, so I turned on the cars air conditioner full blast, lifted my arms and dried them proper to everyone protesting. Hay at least I shaved my beard and skull proper even in a rush, and didn’t walk away wearing Sprung Bob, Peanuts (Lucy and Schroder band n’ the piano), and batman band – aid on my face and head. Yah oh hell yah I am a Dad at over the half a century mark. Volunteer my other half a century to the little guy. So I have a lot more snoopy band – aids coming I am sure.

    ‘I hear your labor of love and the desire for more sleep … and sanity… Danielle.’ 🙂

    ‘I have decided upon getting a service dog, Irish Woolf hound or Spitz, for me and my wife, for purposes of more sleep, so the Dog can play and run the hell out of the little boy, tire out our son. Maybe set them up at the Gray Hound race track chasing the mechanical rabbit, or low flying drone set to forward infinity in the direction of eastward bond. oh’ I did the math, on paper it looks like a brilliant idea. But then…

    ‘Also to add, when our son goes off to World adventures at 17 or 18 after steeling my car, I’ll rush out to the curb and scream out, ‘but what have I done to deserve this! I’ve pulled undigested string carrots out of butt and diapered you at least 9,456 Dippers, took you to incapable barbers for pathetic $ 11.00 haircuts! I never had it so good, I use to walk barefoot in the snow and had to wear my Geeky cousin’s tweed Clown ‘hand – me – down’ trousers and hallucinating late 1970 disco geometric hologram polyester button to the neck with extreme collar shirts!’ As they drive away, his pals laughing slapping him in the back. Dude! Check it out 8 tracks!…’ I love my little son so much.

    Liked by 1 person

  4. Donna-Louise Bishop May 18, 2017 — 8:37 am

    Aw D! Your descriptions and comparisons of the house being like a circus in the morning were really vivid and brought the whole scene to life me. Seriously awesome job.

    Small nitpick but I don’t know if you needed the announcement to all the other parents at the end. I thought you were owning it just fine without admitting it.

    Thoroughly enjoyed reading this piece and I’m sending you sympathy smelly cuddles and knowing chuckles x

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Lol! Thanks for the comment and tip. Perhaps I’ll remove it after voting.

      Liked by 1 person

      1. Donna-Louise Bishop May 18, 2017 — 9:34 am

        Just an idea. I thought it was very true to life though, but maybe not essential to the piece? Will leave the thought with you 🙂

        Liked by 1 person

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