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Photo Credit: “Wonder Lust”, © 2010 Sean Davis, Flickr | CC-BY-ND | via Wylio

Dear Wonder Woman,

I recently read an article about your ridiculous amazing story here. While I’m very interested in your situation, I’d also like to take a ride in your invisible plane after you read this letter. So call me, we’ll do lunch.

Since you already have 13 children, I understand this ain’t your first rodeo. You’ve probably seen everything when it comes to child rearing. But now you’re 65, There was a huge difference in my parenting ability between the birth of my first kid (10 years ago) to the birth of my last kid (one year ago), and I’m not even 40 yet. I’m pretty close though, and I’m fucking tired.

I’m tired because of lack of sleep. I’m tired of little people who need things from me all the time, I’m tired of cleaning up sick and pee on toilets. I’m tired of cooking and cleaning and questions (Jesus Christ the questions).

That being said, I’d assume you are monumentally more tired than I am. But you’re going to have 4 babies, along with the 13 you all ready have. Don’t you think that’s a bit much, even for a Wonder Woman like yourself? I’m sure if I used your magic, truth evoking lasso to produce your most honest thoughts, you’d say, “Holy shit, what have I done? This might not have been an awesome idea.”

Here’s the thing, it’s not that I think a 65-year-old woman wouldn’t make a great mother. I’m just wondering why, at 65 years old, someone would procure donor eggs, and donor sperm, to have more children? And where would you find a doctor who is willing to support this endeavor?

When I decided I was done having babies, it wasn’t a decision I weighed lightly. I still struggle with the fact that I love having babies, and would have had many more given unlimited monetary resources and the assurance that they would all be born healthy, even though I’m considered “advanced maternal age”. But you? You are beyond that. Way beyond… and I cannot, for the life of me, understand why anyone would want to become a parent again at 65.

I hope you have lined up some help to wash your cape.

You’re gonna need it.

Hugs and Kisses,

Amy

P.S. I’m completely serious about flying in your plane. I’ll even wash it when we’re done.

We all know kids need to take naps. I’m sure there’s scientific data around the interweb somewhere, but I have 3 kids so I’m not really into the whole giving-a-shit-about-finding-scientific-data right now. We know kids need to take naps because you can watch them turn from Dr. Jeckel to Mr. Dick in about 5 seconds flat when they are tired. Now, I love a bit of excitement in my life as much as the next gal, but I don’t feel reliving the Exorcist everyday at 3 o’clock is something I can live with.

So, my 4-year-old takes an afternoon nap. And all was right with the universe.

Until recently.

I’m finding motherhood to be a give and take between the best and healthiest options for my children, and the things I need to do to stay sane up in this bitch.

Some examples:

My kids eat healthy food but by industry standards, probably watch too much TV.

My oldest has an extensive after school schedule: sports, religious education, piano lessons… but when he’s not eating or doing homework he plays Minecraft like it’s his job – they really should pay him.

I’m sure I drink too much wine, but it’s my thing. It keeps me sane in a house full of madness…. And Mommy needs her thing.

But now… now, a recent study has been published in Archives of Disease in Childhood and has found that children who nap during the day after the age of 2 often suffer from poorer sleep quality later in life.

What in the actual fuck?

Let me get this straight, the coveted afternoon nap, the thing that keeps my household in harmonious symmetry, might be detrimental to my child in the future?

I call bullshit. You know what will be detrimental to his future? His personality when he doesnt’ get an afternoon nap. Because that shit is not gonna fly around here. Listen close, genius scientists, I’m not giving up nap time, not until you pry it from my cold, unmanicured, overtired hands. You have taken my hopes for a thin waist, my dreams of a brain that can remember more than 2 things at a time, but the nap? No. Not now. Never.

Right now, we need nap time. We need it like we need air, so maybe I’ll apologize in 20 years when he has problems sleeping, but right now? I’m not ending the nap, anytime soon.

I have never been able to relax. I’d like to blame this on my children, but when I reflect on my entire life this has always been the case. My brain has 2 speeds. On and Off. Lately even “off” has become a bit more of an “on” as I have vivid and insane dreams. I suspect that is my subconscious way of reminding myself I can’t relax.

No rest for the wicked… Maybe.

Today is a perfect example. After almost 14 days of vacation my school-aged children are back at school. A normal person would kick her feet up, stay in her pajamas and watch reruns of the Real Housewives. I tried. I really, really, did. But it wasn’t relaxing. My brain just kept ticking through all the things that needed to be done. The things that had been neglected while I was catering to the demands of vacationing children.

My whole life people have been telling me to chill out. Making me feel like my “all go, no quit” attitude was detrimental. A negative, if you will. But you know what? That’s bullshit.

I’m passionate to the point of insanity. I’m energetic and enthusiastic. If there was a way to slow down I would have discovered it already.

I need to stop thinking that this personality trait is a bad thing. Because it’s part of who I am. It’s woven into my DNA. I will always over schedule myself, be busy to the point of exhaustion and I don’t find the normal relaxation things to be relaxing… at all.

I need to embrace that shit.

Right after I fold this load of laundry.