Mommy's Not Magical

I think I need to teach my kids that though sometimes it might appear so, I am not magical. I don't have special powers. Hell, I don't even have the ability to keep the house clean for more than five minutes. I don't think my children understand this. Here are some lessons I need to learn them:


Toddler:

I can't make food cook instantly, no matter how much you whine, "I want pasta" at me. Pasta takes time. Things need to cook. Raw pasta is not delicious. If you want instant gratification, eat some lettuce. That is already done.

I can't make your zoli or woobie appear out of thin air. I am not the one who moved them from the places they should be in the first place. You were, thusly you should be the one who can now locate them. And if I could snap my fingers and make things magically appear, it would be Ryan Gosling, a baby-sitter and a bottle of chardonnay, not your woobie.

I can't make your brother disappear out of thin air. He is here to stay. Deal with it. One day he might have to spring you from jail for underage drinking so you don't have to call mom and dad and make them question what you are doing while away at college. Be nice to him until then so he shows up with bail money.

I do not have the magical powers to decipher what you are saying when you are hysterically crying because you think you saw a bug. Repeating it over and over again in a dramatic fashion isn't helping either. It was a fly. It was not a black widow. Let's move on, shall we?

You, my friend, are also not magical. Saying, "I want chocolate" 33 times in a row will not make it magically appear even though it is dinner time. Also, rubbing the cat's head really hard will not make a genie pop out. It will only make her bite you.


Baby:

Your bottle does not magically make its way to your mouth the second you cry. It requires adding the formula to the water, mixing, locating the burp cloth, etc. I am sorry. That is just the way it is. If you can't wait the 30 seconds it takes, you are going to have to learn to make them yourself, which will be hard since you can't use your hands for anything other than swatting the paci out of your mouth.

I am not a mystical Indian god with many arms. I am cursed to only have two. Sometimes when you want to be picked up, I just don't have enough arms to do so with all of the other crap I am currently doing. I know it is beyond you to be ok when not being held, but it is beyond me to have the ability to hold you 24-7. Call the police!

You do not have the magical powers of levitation. Simply looking at something and crying toward it will not make it move across the room and into your grasp. Sorry.


Baby weight:

Why am I not magical so I could make you disappear? Why, after my second child, did you decide to stake out camp right in the middle of my stomach so it looks like I am smuggling tapioca pudding under my dress? You now make me have the conundrum of, "Do I keep the fat over the top of my jeans, thus resulting in a muffing top, or do I hide it under the jeans, thus creating a very attractive gunt?" Damn you, elusive magic. Damn you.