1.) Your toddler now freely plays with toys and objects that you had banned months ago but have since given up the fight (remote control, old cell phone, watch, potato masher, nasal drops, very large snow shovel, etc.).
2.) You’ve become a pro at getting everyone bundled up for the cold, but it still takes you at least 40 minutes to make it out the door (5 minutes to dress yourself, 15 minutes to wrangle toddler into snowsuit, 20 minutes to squeeze reluctant dog into booties and the dog parka which cost more than your own winter coat).
Often the struggle seems too insurmountable, and you all remain indoors.
3.) You’ve cycled through every variation of your toy collection and have resorted to desperate measures to keep your child entertained. (“Today we’re going to play with all of your bins of outgrown baby clothes! Oh…done already? So fast. Okay…now we’ll play with Mama’s old pregnancy pillow! Yay!”)
4.) You think about food a lot and begin wondering what you’ll have for dinner around 11AM. You always want it to be pizza.
5.) Your nerves are so fried from constant toddler meltdowns and an always-present background of jangly children’s songs that you actually shriek in fear when you sit down to pee and are greeted by this:
Frightening Duck Washcloth: Hey friend. Grey sweatpants again, I see?
Frightening Duck Washcloth: Couldn’t even handle leggings? Yoga pants? Something with non-elastic ankles and waist?
I’m just saying that duck washcloths need to stop judging moms on their choices and start supporting them.
I think it’s been a long winter, friends.
How’s everyone holding up? Got a touch of the cabin fever? Are you fantasizing about sunshine and packing away the snowsuits? Are you doing well, or are you having conversations with your child’s bath toys?
Stay strong. We’ve almost made it through!
Dear Mother Haggard,
I feel as though I may owe you an apology. For it was I, who purchased frightening duck wash cloth and thus brought him into your bathroom. Had I known then that he would behave in this manner…let’s just say I would have made some different choices that day.
Tell you what–you make some pizza happen and we’ll be square.
JUST KIDDING. We’re square. It was a lesson learned with our friend Duck Washcloth. I suppose anything with googly-eyes will be frightening to a sleep deprived person who has existed on nothing but sugar and caffeine for the past 3 months (/3 years). Duck and I have since made peace and just earlier today, he told me that my hair looked nice and that I should brush it more often! Sweet, huh? The little charmer.
You can still bring me pizza if you like.
Yup—-pizza.
Yup. Pizza. That about says it all.
Dear Mama Hags,
I’m really digging the truth bomb that is this blog! I came for Merle, but I’m staying for you! I am not a mother myself, but as someone slowly descending into madness for other reasons, I can certainly relate on multiple levels to everything you’re laying down! I feel as though Duck Washcloth as a symbol or signifier speaks to all of us on a fundamental, universal level – this winter in particular. There is an episode of the Twilight Zone where the main character is haunted and eventually attacked by the inanimate objects that surround him, and reflecting on this episode in retrospect, I believe he was simply ensconced in a really long, possibly Canadian, winter and was severely deficient in vitamin D. Spring really can’t come soon enough, but until that blessed day, I say we rock our grey tracks, stare down our Duck Washcloths, and embrace the fact that we’ll always want pizza for dinner every night, forever. xox
Michelle! I’m really digging your comment, and on so many levels! You’ve made me wonder if Duck Washcloth really did speak to me, or was he ever really there at all. Was it a vision? Is any of this real? I’m going to need a few days to think about all of this.
The lack of vitamin D is real, as is the yearning for spring and some GD warmth! (Except when all of the old radiators in our place inexplicably turn on full blast in the middle of the night. I hate that.) But until then, I am joining you in the fight to keep off madness and am rocking my sweats (I’m wearing my dressy ones today–plum with a matching sweatshirt. Really sophisticated-like), and I’m staring down that Duck Washcloth while cramming a piece of cold pizza in my mouth and saying horrible things to him. Pretty twisted stuff, actually. Unless he’s not real and I’m just shouting at the air. Either way, I FEEL GREAT!!! xoxo