Mommy Salami to Wild Vixen
Oh God, is it ‘sexy time’ already???
It’s 9pm. I’ve showered 3 kids, wiped 3 shitty butts, brushed 3 sets of cavity-ridden teeth, clipped a few toenails and FINALLY, it’s time to put these little suckers down. Aghhhhhhhh. Lights off, crew!
My 3 year old yanks down my t-shirt, “Mommy, what are those 2 big brown polka dots on your boo-boos?” “Those are areolas, Leo. Go to sleep,” I say. I quickly close my eyes. “Mom, mom, I’m hungry. Can I have some cheeze-its?” “Mom, I need to poop again.” “Mom, I forgot to pick my toy for show-and-tell.” This is where I start to imagine myself standing up on their bed, pounding my chest like King Kong and screaming at them so that the terror of my voice forces them to sleep.
Then, suddenly, all 3 of them start chanting “Mommy Salami, Mommy Salami, Mommy Salami.” That’s right folks. My nickname is Mommy Salami. Don’t get me wrong. I own it. I love the laughter. I love the vulnerability that surfaces when I’m with my babes. And the names we call each other are so cute I jot them down in a book so that they are never forgotten.
Finally, 59 excruciating minutes later, they are all asleep. It’s 9:59pm. My numb right toe gently touches the floor as I slip out. Phewwww. I drag my tired self across the hall realizing I have some leftover lasagna in my hair. I start fantasizing about that steamy hot shower I’m about to take, the one where I zonk out and stand there like a Statue of Liberty for 30 minutes. And then I suddenly bump into my husband.
He is leaning against the bedroom door frame…with that glistening Austin Powers look in his eyes. Oh God … is it really ‘sexy time’ already? Don’t get me wrong … I’ve been blessed with a hunk of a man. But how can a woman transition from Mommy Salami to naughty nurse in less than 5 minutes?
Ideally, I would love to bust out into Beyonce’s “I don’t think you’re ready for this jelly” vibe, but I’ll need a minute (or 80) to make this transition. Can I get an Amen? Deep down in my tired mama heart, I know I’m not the only one. Transitions are a natural part of life. For example, most people decompress in the car on their way home from work. As moms, we need to decompress after our night shift but what if your commute is 10 seconds down the hall?
Heck, we need to do what we need to do to get there. No apologies! I say let your significant other know you are going to regroup, take a little time to brush your salami shoulders off, and then slip into that wild outfit [or maybe we keep the goals super low and just take off the zebra pajamas]. You got this!
So, how much time do you need to transition from mom mode to vixen? What’s the magic number for you? What’s your routine?
Written by: Mary Terterov
Edited by: Tina Esrailian