A Mother’s Dream


As I stumble through my life every day, I look around and my mind starts to wander, wander to a fantasy world where some of my bubble-19329_1920wildest dreams come true.

-I dream of a world where once, just once, someone else besides me decides to scrub the nasty, caked on grates of the stove that seem to be eternally dirty thanks to our family full of not quite super careful people gathered around the stove on a daily basis.

-I see a world where, when I decide I want to go to bed, I can actually go to bed and not spend thirty minutes taking care of a handful of small chores that must be finished first, like turning off the computer, putting food away that was left out, turning on the dishwasher, taking the dogs out, putting clothes in the dryer, or turning off lights in sixteen rooms that people “accidentally” left on.

-I dream of a place where, on the one day I have nothing on my plate all day but getting in a little “me” time, I do not get a phone call an hour after school drop off saying that I need to come get one of my children who is suddenly throwing up.

-There is a land where, when I suggest to my children that they go outside and play because it is an absolutely beautiful day out, they do not look at me as though I have suddenly grown horns and a third ear.

-I’d love a world where, when I ask one of my children to do the one and only chore she is assigned once a week on that day, she does not stomp her feet, and roll her eyes and act like I just asked her to scrub the entire kitchen floor on her hands and knees with her toothbrush.

-I dream that a world exists where I never walk around my house barefoot and accidentally step in dog vomit or on a small, pointy toy that has been left in the middle of the floor for no discernible reason.

-There must be a place where, after being told literally fifty times not to leave shoes laying around the house, my child actually puts his shoes in his room and not in the middle of the kitchen where the dog is sure to chew them up.

-I fantasize about having a home where no one just leaves their trash laying around in random places because it’s easier than walking a whole six steps to put it in the actual trash can.

-I can see a home where children do not argue with each other daily because one of them “looked at” the other one, and they do not go out of their way to antagonize each other for sport or retaliate against each other for every perceived injustice that rarely turns out to be anything of substance whatsoever.

-I dream of sports schedules and club schedules and class schedules and meeting schedules that do not require me to have six people at six different locations around the city within the same fifteen minute window on a weekly basis.

-There is a world where my bedroom does not become the dumping ground for everything everyone outgrows, doesn’t like, or doesn’t know its proper spot in the house I feel like I belong on the show “Hoarders” every time I go to get dressed.

-I dream of a family who says “Wow, Mom, thank you for all you do for us every day”, even if they don’t want something from me.

-I long for a place where I don’t have to repeat myself seven times before someone does what I ask, or remind someone twelve times that they need to do / not do something, or offer one of my kidneys if someone would take the trash out for me.

-I fantasize that, when I ask what people would like for dinner, I don’t always have one person who not only disagrees with what the other seven people say, but throws an all-out tantrum if he doesn’t get his way.

-I dream of a day when not one time do I have to tell someone to “stop that!” while I am driving my car.

-I wish so very hard for a home where the dishwasher doesn’t have to be rearranged three times before it can be run, and no one leaves empty milk cartons on the counter, or leaves empty food boxes on the shelf in the pantry, and my toilets don’t get clogged or the seats peed on, and random towels that “no one used” are left lying in piles on the bathroom floor every week.

I suppose it would make as much sense to dream of a talking monkey riding on a unicorn with a bright yellow mane and polka dots to sweep into my yard and tell me I have won the lottery and everything I eat is now highly nutritious with only the “good” calories and I will get bi-weekly dates with my husband in wonderful, fun places while the monkey keeps the children from calling and disturbing our fun.

I love my family, I have a good life, but we can all dream, can’t we?