Mom's Night Out

This is not a post about PKD, but my tagline does say this blog is about motherhood (does it?  It does, right?  And something about a dog?), so I thought I'd write about the new movie, Mom's Day Out.

I didn't have high expectations for the movie.  And ultimately, it delivered pretty much what was expected: some frazzled moms go out for a well deserved night on the town, hijinx ensue.  The hijinx are a little ridiculous, and kind of over the top (an entire fleet of biker gangs and a police force join together to find a baby, which, by the way, happens to be in the house NEXT DOOR, which isn't a spoiler, because the audience knows this way before any of the characters do).

 It was when the fleet of bikers show up and one of them is driven by one of the moms'  husbands, and she DOESN'T say, "Um, what the hey nonnie nah are you doing on a motorcycle with Trace Adkins in his BIKER GANG instead taking care of our three children?" and instead embraces him with the tender affection that is usually reserved for a spouse you haven't seen for days instead of, say, hours, that I said to my friend, "This is officially silly."

Which is okay, because you go to the movies with your friends to see silly things because really you are mostly interested in escaping your life as a mother, not because you don't love your children but because a little time away from them is refreshing and actually makes you a better mom and silly escapist movies are a great way to do just that.

It was the parts of the movie that weren't silly that sort of blew my mind.  The part where I sat there and thought, "I have said those exact words.  My children have done those exact things.  I have felt those exact feelings."

Is it awesome that the filmmakers nailed the nuances of being a stay at home mother, or a little creepy?

And during the scene when the husband comes home and the camera pans a destroyed kitchen and a catastrophic mess in the house and a trail of candy wrappers and opens a closet to find his wife finishing off an entire bag of Lindt chocolates while she watches some inane video of a eagle live cam, I laughed but inwardly thought, "I have been there.  Exactly there."

Lemme just tell you, people, if you find a momma hiding in the closet eating chocolate (or curled up in the bathtub crying uncontrollably, or eating an entire cake BY HERSELF), that's not time for laughter.  That is time for some intervention, my friends.

And maybe more cake.

My kids are getting older, and easier.  They can pee and poop on their own, and as soon as my daughter loses her morning drama and stops being traumatized every time I ask her to tie her own shoes before breakfast, they will both be able to officially, completely, totally dress themselves head to foot unaided  (although asking my daughter to not be dramatic in the morning is a little bit like asking my dog not to fart at dinner time, which is to say, I may be tying her shoes until high school).   There are no dirty diapers, no big diaper bags, I don't pack snacks anymore, and for the most part, there are no more major messes.

(Except my daughter's room, because she's like a squirrel--she hoards everything.  Seriously.  There was a whole conversation between her and her father that involved her freaking out after he cleaned her room and going through the trash bag that held her "treasures".  I died in fits of laughter as I heard him say, "But that's BROKEN!" and her screaming back, "But I want to SAVE IT ANYWAY!" and him saying, "But it's TRASH!" and her wailing, "But I LOVE IT!")

So being a mom is getting easier, in some ways.  In some ways, it's getting harder.  The stakes are getting higher.  My son is in middle school, which is a jungle, and I pray for him every day that he can navigate it and come out on the other side with as little bruising as possible.  His choices are no longer just about what he wears or who he hangs out with.  He has some big stuff coming up, big years, and those years are scary.  Great and wonderful and exciting, but----scary.

I'm not sure where this post is going, other than to say that being a mother is crazy making and wonderful and beautiful and painful all at once, and watching all of that being portrayed on the screen was kind of---unexpected.

And it made me want more cake.

P.S. I'm pretty sure my dog has PKD.  (See, there is some PKD in this post after all!)