Dear Son #1, #2, & #3,
I gaze at the crowd, eyes shining as bright as the sparkling dress and glistening diamonds that I am wearing. Finally, my moment has come, the day that I have always dreamed about yet am still shocked that I’m at last experiencing it. The crowd has quietened their deafening applause as I confidently approach the podium, all eagerly awaiting what I have to say, who I have to thank, and how it is I got here. I glance down at the shining statue in my slightly shaking hands…
Wait a minute, is it in the shape of a toilet brush?
“Mooooommmmmyyyyyyy” I am suddenly jolted back to reality with the overpowering scent of Lysol in my nostrils and your little voice calling my name. “Uhhhh you may need to come in here. I pooed. But I didn’t make it. So. It’s on the floor. And you’re probably gonna want to to turn the light and the fan on.”
Sighing and cringing at the same time (a singe?) I cautiously approach the bathroom where you (Alexander) are crouched on the bathroom floor in the darkness over top of a very large pile of—well, we can figure out the rest, no point in getting into the dirty details. It had been a long week and it was only Wednesday. On Friday night when I went into your bedroom to kiss you all goodnight and was instantly assaulted by the smell of vomit, I knew it was that time again. The time every mother (and father!) fears. Stomach bug time.
While you obviously will never be mothers, you will most likely witness the most un-glamorous job in the world unfold before you as soon as you hold your first child in your arms. Trust me when I say newborn poops and pukes are ADORABLE compared to the later toddler ones. It really goes downhill fast. I’ve always been of the mind that mothers should be given out awards frequently for the mundane, germ-infested, and exhausting work that they do because, let’s be honest, it’s the most important job out there. But alas, the only red carpet you’ll see us moms on is the one we’re scrubbing after an accident. While we graciously accept our duties with a smile on our faces and a clothespin on our nose, we don’t lose hope. One day there will be an award for us, and I will win it…yes I even have my acceptance speech ready and waiting.
“Wow, this is just all so sudden. I mean, one minute I’m changing Alexander’s sheets for the fourth time at 3am and the next I’m standing up here looking at all the beautiful people who made this happen. Well I guess, first I would like to thank the public school system, without you I would never have had the pleasure of being gifted the most contagious ‘Nora-gastro-stomach-virus’ of the year. Then again if I tried homeschooling one more time you would find me behind padded walls so, I really can’t complain. I would like to thank Children’s Gravol for not only being a thing but for being back on the shelves in the pharmacy again. It got us through some real touch and go drives this past weekend and saved us at least $200 in truck interior cleaning costs. On this same note I would like to show my undying appreciation for paper towels, baby wipes and empty “I Can’t Believe It’s Not Butter” containers; they proved very useful and most life-saving when the Gravol didn’t come through, or came back up rather. I would like to send out a very big, whole-hearted thank you to my washing machine and dryer as not once did they let me down. 17 loads of laundry in five days would not have been possible without them and their extreme efficiency. As well as Costco for providing moms such items like Tide and Lysol wipes in bulk quantities. I would like to thank my husband who did not lose his cookies every time one of you lost yours, it was a close call some times but he held it in beautifully. And finally I would like to thank whoever built our house and put a walk-in shower in it. It’s so much easier cleaning a 100-lb Bernese Mountain Dog with puke all over his head than if it was just a regular shower. Who am I kidding?? I can’t forget the main people who truly made this happen. Pieter, William and Alexander; without your excessive explosion of body fluids I wouldn’t be here today. Good job licking whatever object you licked to catch the germs to make this happen, mommy loves you boys. Now if you excuse me my time has been cut short as it looks like Alexander is doing the pee dance. Thank you, thank you. Love to you all.”
***Dramatically blowing kisses and waving as I hurry off the stage, clutching my toilet brush statue in one hand and holding up my glamorous dress in the other so I don’t fall down the stairs. After all, everyone knows that when a three-year-old has to pee. They HAVE TO PEE.
So there you go my boys, the moral of the story here is always look at the potential silver lining of everything, even if it does involve copious amounts of Lysol and Pepto Bismol. I may not get an award shaped like a toilet brush, wear a fancy gown, glitter in diamonds or say an elaborate speech to an excited crowd; but I did get a funny blog post, a clean dog and all fresh bedding out of the deal. So who am I to complain?
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This post is part of a blog hop with Exhale—an online community of women pursuing creativity alongside motherhood, led by the writing team behind Coffee + Crumbs. Click here to view the next post in the series “Acceptance Speech”.
1 thought on “And the Toilet Brush Award of Excellence goes to…”
Well done Amy !!!
Every mother in history can truly appreciate what you go through, unfortunately you are also the one that will have to get everyone on board when the time is right to host your own gala and make your own trophy
Love comes in so many ways , doesn’t it 😜🙂❤️