I was near the tail end of pulling Tiny-Small all around the yard in her radio flyer wagon with one dog biting the tires at every turn and the other one biting my hand with every pull when it hit me: We should have the Mommy Olympics. Pulling my daughter up hill, down hill, and over rocky terrain not only requires agility, but stamina as well. If wagon pulling were an Olympic event I would be well on my way to at least a silver medal, maybe even gold if I really kept up my practice and pace.
How about diaper changing too? Anyone with a toddler knows that changing a diaper can become a full contact sport. How many times have I chased Tiny-Small around the house trying to attach a diaper to her naked butt all the while dodging furniture, jumping over laundry baskets and grasping the tube of “butt paste” like a tiny football? I seriously see a gold medal in my future for this one. Competition would be fierce, but without a doubt my score would far outrank my husbands.
For working mother’s there is the “I have to get to work on time” event. This would be a multifaceted event with stages and levels much like a triathlon or something to that effect. First there would be the getting dressed and breakfast making portion. Of course this may have to be done more than once if the mom wants to leave the house stain free or without oatmeal in her hair (bonus points). Then there would be the bag packing section where the mom attempts to pack all of the baby items needed for daycare and all of the work items needed for work, but oh no!!! The child’s clothes and favorite toy are still wet in the washer and someone with tiny hands has left chocolate fingerprints all over her finance report. What does she do now? The last portion of the event would be the mad dash to leave the house (my personal favorite). This would involve a slow, dawdling child that needs a diaper change, the phone would be ringing, the keys would be missing, and the mom, upon leaving the house, would discover that her car has a flat tire. I am of the stay-at-home-breed so expert consultants would have to be brought in to supervise the design of this event. I can’t be sure of it’s authenticity until it has been well and widely tested by those mother’s in the know.
For stay-at-home-mom’s we have the I can’t do ANYTHING by myself event. Mom’s will attempt to use the bathroom, take a shower, hide in a closet and eat an entire sandwich all by herself, without interruption and without unwanted company. Actually, this event sounds impossible. Maybe it would be better to see which mom can endure the most company, the most interruptions, and the most people eating her sandwich for her. Yeah, that sounds more reasonable. The mom who is driven the most crazy wins! We all have a shot at that one.
Next, the bathtub event. Yep, washing a slippery, cranky, I don’t want soap in my eyes child while the clock is ticking, dinner is burning, and the dog is chasing the neighbor down the street. The mother will be rated on how dry she is when bath time is over, how clean her child is, and the amount of water on the bathroom floor. I am telling you right now I will not even qualify for this event. I just don’t have it in me and as you have read previously in my blog: me and bath time just don’t mix.
Lastly, there would be the “Clean your room” event. Yes, there have been many, many bloggers discussing this event in the past few days (must be due to spring-cleaning fever). Mom’s with children of all ages would be eligible to participate in this event although I am certain mother’s of teenagers would have a somewhat unfair advantage. From what I have read teenagers have the most disgusting rooms of all so of course the clean up of that health hazard would provide mom’s with an incredible point advantage over us mom’s with babies and toddlers. I am guessing this contest will have multiple winners in all three medal categories.
On second thought, mom’s of teenagers should just get gold medals automatically simply for still being alive. Surviving motherhood for that long deserves some additional recognition.