The concept of Murphy’s Law, as most know it, states simply that what can go wrong, inevitably will. Now if you have a sense of humor, you learn to roll with the punches (if you’ll pardon the cliche), and let situational irony and unfortunate coincidences just roll off your back. If you’re a mom, you have no choice. So when I came across a blog post titled Murphy’s Law for Moms on a thrifty, nifty blog titled Raising Arrows, I could totally relate. Plus it was just adorable.
But you see, mommys and daddys fall victim to smudgy messes and ill-timed diaper explosions all the time. That’s just all part of the parenting game; you know, the one nobody ever told you the rules to because they change every day? Yes, that game. And let’s be real… mop the floor? HA HA HA. She’s a trip, right? But life’s little idiosyncrasies, once kid’s are part of it, go so much deeper than boogers and dirt and spills. So, I present to you the dramafreemama‘s version of Mommy’s Murphy’s Law… but it might be more appropriately titled “The way shit happens for real…”
♥ The amount of money you spend on a toy is roughly proportional to the interest he/she will show in the box it came in instead. I might also add that the age of the child regarding this phenomenon is entirely inconsequential.
♥ Extended nap times typically occur when you have specific plans on Saturday afternoon that require your arrival at 3pm sharp. Rainy Sunday when you could use a good nap too? Someone must have snuck a Redbull™ in his sippy…
♥ Want him to repeat the words “please” or “thank you”? How bout say “NaNa” on the phone to your mother in law? Plead away. It ain’t happenin’. But say “shit” in his presence just one time… suddenly he’s a damned Macaw parrot of epic verbal proportions.
♥ The time it takes you to book a hair appointment on the phone is exactly the amount of time it takes to get a fruit snack lodged in a nostril. Who knew?
♥ A toddler’s dinner is never as appealing to him as yours is. Want him to eat something healthy? Put it on your plate and plan to enjoy it yourself. Gone. <Advisory note: Place it on baby’s tray and say, “Here baby, mommy wants you to eat this, Yum Yum” only if you want it to promptly become property of the dog. >
♥ The one time this month both you and your spouse would like to have some mommy-daddy time (feel free to enter some other uncomfortable euphemism for post-baby sex here), and the sentiment is mutual and simultaneous… is the one time this month baby wakes up in the middle of the night absolutely inconsolable. (Or vomits, or has a bad dream, or some other such cock-blocking nonsense.)
♥ Whatever adorable, precious, priceless moment you wanted to capture will cease as soon as the lens of your camera is open. It will resume once you have set your camera down some place you can’t recall.
♥ That drink of water (or crayon out of reach, or 3 day old boo boo that needs another kiss) reaches super-crucial emergency status ONLY when the car insurance people finally take you OFF hold… or you finally sit down to crap.
♥ Antique handmade end-tables and your grandmother’s afghan, apparently, make far better fort-making materials than the beanbag chairs and old sheets you had delegated for that very purpose.
And with Zachary’s 2nd birthday approaching faster than I’d like to even think about, I leave you with this final law that is plaguing me of late… Plan the party to be outside, torrential insanity ensues. Plan it inside, prettiest day of spring. What’s a momma to do?
♥ Big hugs to Virginia McKenzie for creative collaboration on this one.♥