My So-Called Glamorous Life
The moment Beyoncé came out with her Instagram twins photo debut I realized, sadly, her and I could never be friends. It wasn’t the belly button scandal or all their names bordering on child abuse that bothered me; it was how completely inauthentic this documentation of motherhood was in every way imaginable. My glamorous version of being a mom has never included a veil or a flowered archway.
Cut to my so-called glamorous life where I spent the morning in the bathroom at Kaiser trying to convince my 3-year-old to pee with my hand all the way inside the toilet bowel. If you have ever had the pleasure of getting a sterile urine sample from your child, I cannot recommend it enough. At first she started laughing, thinking I was trying to pinch her bottom, which I often do after bath because their teeny tiny tushies are just too cute not to. Then she gave me her first look of embarrassed mortification, which if I do my job right as a mother, I can expect many more to come in her teen years. It was about that time that Madeleine discovered my wallet and started flinging my credit cards all over the bathroom floor as well as into the trash can. Scared I was going to miss my urine window of opportunity I grabbed Madeleine and we sat next to the toilet bowel while I told them the story of The Little Mermaid hoping the water theme would get something flowing. My only break came in the form of an elderly Chinese man walking in on us, since naturally the girls had unlocked the door. 25 minutes later I started to feel some warm drops on hand just as Maddie used my shirt to wipe her snot as she coughed into my boobs. After washing all of our hands like we were about to go into surgery, we emerged back into the waiting room where I was half expecting a round of applause; but was met with only droves of other unhappy sick people. I bet they would have clapped for Beyoncé.
This is not exactly how I envisioned parenthood.
I pictured story time with all of us snuggled in bed. Not finding a soggy graham cracker under the sheets at 3 in the morning. I saw family road trips to exciting locations. Not my car turning into a wasteland for lost socks and snacks. I dreamed of bath time with bubbles and giggles. Not my oldest trying to get her sisters’ toes stuck down the drain. There is very little glamor in motherhood and yet somehow it still manages to be just so darn beautiful.
