“Oh,” I laughed, “They are downstairs, having a snack and watching ‘Hannah Montana,’ I can talk.”
“They will find you, they have a sixth sense.”
“No, no,” I said, “I’m hiding in the guest room closet, even if they do come upstairs, they will never think to look for me here.”
She reluctantly continued with whatever she was calling about. I honestly don’t remember because less than two minutes into our conversation, the closet door opened and there they were and this is what happened next:
Daughter (hands on hips): MOMMY, um MOMMY... I was playing tea party with my dolls and I was PRETENDING to pour water in their cups and then HE brought his spiderman to the party and I said he wasn’t invited and then he REALLY dumped water all over my dolls!”
Son (also with hands on hips, nodding in agreement): I did that.
Daughter: MOMMY, my dolls are all wet! (kicks her brother)
Son (starting to cry): MOMMY! (kicks and pushes his sister, who also starts crying)
Clearly Annoyed Best Friend: Oh my God, why do you keep telling me to have one of these things?
Me (out loud): Because being a mother is the most fulfilling experience in the world. It’s wonderful!
Me (in my head): Because misery loves company you goes on a cruise every other weekend and can still fit into your wedding dress, witch! I hope you wait so long that you have to use fertility drugs and then you get five all at once. Then you will know!
That’s pretty much an example of when I actually did go insane for a moment. I secretly wished infertility and a litter of kids on my best friend! That’s just not like me. In reality, I would only want her to have twins... three tops!
In many ways it’s amusing. The word that I wanted more than anything to hear, the word that made me cry tears of joy when it was finally said, the word that defines me, now causes me to hide in a closet!
I suppose it’s not really the word itself that I hate. I would certainly feel the same thing about the word “chocolate” if it was screamed at me over and over while I was trying to strain a boiling pot of spaghetti! FOR CRYING OUT LOUD... WHAT? Oh... I’m sorry. I’m not saying that to you, the reader. It appears they have a sixth sense for when I’m blogging as well! Everyone wants some juice. I’ll be quick with my point. I don’t really hate the word. Being a mommy does bring me a lot of joy, just not when I’m on the phone, trying to cook dinner, or writing my blog!