Before I had children, I fantasized — a lot. I had daydreams of walking around Paris in high heels with my best friend. We would shop for anything and everything, devour chocolate and croissants, and sip on expensive wine. Attractive men would carry our packages for us and rub our feet on command. They would also have an endless supply of cheese.
I also recall a few times I was deep in thought about Leonardo Dicaprio. This fantasy also involved high heels and chocolate but in a totally different context. I am sure you get my drift.
Since having three kids, my mind often feels a lot like a jumbled mess. There is still room in motherhood for fantasies, but they have changed a bit. I tend to long for the simpler things in life — although I would still gladly welcome Paris, Leo, and some cheese with open arms — like a little less chaos, a little more silence, and a little less complaining.
Three-Ways Aren’t Just for Swingers
At the top of my list is a Ménage à Trois. This would involve a massage, online shopping —Amazon Prime is such a turn-on — and eating chocolate cake with my bare hands. All at the same time.
Quality Time in Bed
After that, it would be really nice to fall asleep like I did before I had kids. I remember those nights before kids when I would fall into a deep sleep, without the mind-explosions I tend to have now. There was nothing to do but close my eyes and drift and doze into dreamland. I didn’t lie there worrying about what I had forgotten, if I had done enough, who had gym the next day at school — did they pack their sneakers — or if we had overdue library books.
I didn’t wonder if I was going to get woken up in the night due to night terrors, crying, sleepwalking or a fever. And once I fell asleep, I certainly didn’t have my bladder knocking at my lady bits telling me I better get up and pee. I just want to lie down, shut my eyes, turn off my mind, and not worry about all the things every night. Now that would be erotic.
Solo Action Always Hits the Right Spot
Who knew being alone in the bathroom would be something a mother longs for? I want to pee, wipe, wash my hands, make sure there is nothing in my teeth, and check out my ass in my mirror — alone. I don’t even want a knock at the door. I don’t want to hear the word “mom” uttered from anyone’s lips in any context. Same goes for when I shower or when I decide to go in the bathroom with a cheesecake and my phone. Just leave me the hell alone.
Maybe if I could get some alone time, I would also get my short-term memory back. I would like to walk into a room and remember why the fuck I went in there in the first place. I am sick of forgetting things on my grocery list, even though they are written down, and it would be really special to remember what day it is. I am so consumed with my kids’ schedules that I sometimes forget to shave both legs at once.
No more complaining that there is no food in the house would be a dream. How nice it would be to return home from the grocery store after racking my brain trying to come up with things my kids will both eat and appreciate and not be greeted with, “Hey mom, I thought you went shopping. Where is all the food?” Fuck — it wouldn’t be a fantasy, it would be a miracle.
Set the Mood
Gynecologist appointments have been a yearly requirement for woman for quite some time. I can’t believe they haven’t made this visit more pleasant. Wine, cookies, and heating pads would be a dream come true. At the very least, it certainly would make scooting my vagina towards somebody’s face as they insert an oversized nutcracker into my cave of wonders much more relaxing. Maybe I just need to get out more.
Call Me by Another Name
I would like to erase “human kleenex” and “vomit cleaner” from my resume. While we are at it, we might as well add “pee and poop wiper-upper” to that list as well. The hell known as wiping puke off a wall, the throne, and the floor at 2 a.m. is also a nightmare that I’d like to be rid of, and one that moms (and dads) have experienced too many times.
So while my mom fantasies may be very unrealistic (there will be pee, vomit, complaining about dinner, and forgetting who I am for moments at a time for a while longer), it’s fun to daydream for a bit. I do know that when the kids are grown and gone, I will probably long to see little fingers poke under the bathroom door and miss tripping over their shoes, and the new silence will probably hurt my ears. Until then though, I will cope with the chaos by sneaking in some of these fantasies — you know, between the complaining and wiping the vomit off the ceiling.
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