Ticket to Mommyland

Whenever a Facebook friend posts a smiling, exhausted, sometimes drugged up picture of herself with her brand spankin new baby (what? I had a morphine pump didn't y'all?), I usually post 'yay welcome to Mommyland!' and recently I had somebody respond 'what's Mommyland?' 

So I've been pondering this. Usually when I vacuum. That's when I do my best thinking. 

'Mommyland' is different from 'Parenthood' or 'Organic mom with free range children' or any of those other perfect places that perfect parents dwell with their perfect lives and perfect children. 

Mommyland is far from perfect. 

Here is a sample checklist to see if you've earned your ticket to Mommyland:

You wonder why drug companies haven't invented baby sleeping medication. Or a diet pill that actually works. 

Your children look like a ad for Gymboree when you take them to school (matching top and bottom with matching shoes and hair bow) but you look like you're homeless wearing whatever you've dug out of the clean laundry basket that morning, hair in a bun, no makeup, and house slippers. 

You try to vacuum a Cheerio and find yourself screaming 'you satanic circle of whole grain I WILL DEFEAT YOU!' because Cheerios have supernatural powers and resist vacuum suction. 

You have a princess tent at your front door because that's the one toyless spot left in your home and whenever people ring your doorbell you have to yell 'hang on I have to move the tent to get the door open!' which is actually a great way to scare away Jehovah's witnesses. 

You're jealous of your child free friends' posts on Facebook. Not the posts about going to gourmet restaurants or out to the movies or on amazing vacations or to Kroger alone. The posts about sleeping in. I miss sleeping in. 

You lock yourself in a room to eat a snickers bar and drink a Coke not only because you don't want to share, but because you don't want your children to see you eating that junk when you have them convinced pop will rot their teeth and sugar will make their toes fall off. 

You stick a pacifier back in your baby's mouth after it falls on the ground/floor without washing it and shrug off the shocked stares from 'organic free range children' moms because you've seen what your kid usually puts in their mouth and a dirty pacifier is the least of your worries. 

You snicker to yourself at 'perfect mom' who brags about their 3 year old who can already read, speak Portuguese, bake bread, and has a black belt in whatever kwan do. Then you lovingly look at your child who is eating a booger and say 'yeah that's awesome. Mine is dumb' because the reaction you get is priceless. 

You silently laugh until you almost pee when your child drops their first curse word. 

You feel like you need to build bleachers in your bathroom so the kids and cats will have someplace to sit whenever you shower, brush your teeth, etc because obviously you can't ever be trusted to do these things alone. 

You constantly want a break from your kids but the moment you get one you miss them like crazy. How warped is that?

Your kid refers to Red Bull or coffee as 'mommy sippy.'

By the end of each day your clothes are crusted up with dried slobbers, snot, applesauce, and who knows what else. 

If you're laughing and nodding your head as you read this, welcome to Mommyland. We have pie.