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Broke Wife, Big City
Maybe I don’t
know everything
By Aprill Brandon
Knowledge is power. And nowhere is this more evident than when you are
the parent of small children. For all the exhausting yet mundane things
you have to deal with on a daily basis as a parent (and there are A
LOT), one of the biggest perks is that you can usually count on being
the smartest person in the room.
Children come into this world knowing nothing. Like, nothing. I
literally had to explain to my almost 2-year-old what the sky was the
other day.
It’s flattering almost, in it’s own way. Your kids just assume you are
the ultimate authority on everything. Which almost, ALMOST, makes up
for the endless barrage of questions that pour out of their mouths.
Where do squirrels live?
In trees, honey.
What is ice made of?
Frozen water.
Why do I have to go to sleep?
Because your body needs sleep to grow big and strong. And Momma is
super behind on “Supernatural” episodes.
In the morning, answering these questions usually comes as naturally as
breathing. In that I can’t stop to think about what I’m doing because
then all I’d be doing is answering questions. So I just answer without
even thinking about it as I go about my business.
Are Kermit and Miss Piggy married?
It’s complicated, darling.
Why?
Because Kermit is afraid of commitment.
What’s that sign say?
Don’t walk.
Why are we walking then?
Because that sign is not the boss of me.
How does someone get to become President?
No one knows anymore, baby.
But as the day wears on, I start to stumble a bit. My all-knowing
authority starts to show signs of weakness, their neverending questions
poking tiny holes everywhere.
Why can’t I watch TV all day, Momma?
Because it’s bad for you.
Why?
Because...sigh...because your brain needs stimulation.
What’s stimulation?
Um...everything that happens when you aren’t watching TV?
And by the end of the day, when the caffeine has worn off and I’m
exhausted and some pretty major parts of my brain have been liquidified
because my kids won’t stop saying “momomomomomomomom,” I begin to
question my own grasp of this seemingly basic knowledge I am imparting
to them.
Do fish talk?
No, sweetie. Wait...I mean...yeah, no, they don’t. But I’m sure they
communicate in some way. They’d have to, right?
Why can’t I say bad words?
Honestly? Mostly because it just reflects poorly on my parenting. Like,
it’s cute if a 2-year-old says “damn it” but gets significantly less
cute the older you get.
But don’t you say bad words?
I do. And I’m allowed to because...well, um...because I pay taxes. And
the day you have to pay taxes, you can say all the bad words you want.
Is “fat” a bad word, Momma?
Oh god, kid. Um, some people think so. Although others don’t, they’re
embracing it, reclaiming it, if you will. Technically it’s a
descriptive word but in our society it’s been used as a kind of verbal
weapon. So really it depends how much power you personally give the
word. I guess. Is it your bedtime yet?
What is the coldest season?
Winter.
What is the second coldest season?
Fall. Er...although it could also be spring. Let’s just say they’re
tied.
Why is it called fall? Like fall down?
Yeah, because the leaves fall off the trees during that time of year.
Although it’s also called autumn.
Why do the leaves fall down? Do they need a bandaid?
Sigh...um,
the leaves fall because of...is it to conserve water or something?
During the winter? I think. And no they don’t need bandaids. The leaves
are dead. OH CRAP, I MEAN…
What’s dead mean, Momma?
WHO WANTS ICE CREAM!?
Will you die someday? Will I? How about Daddy? Where do you go when you
die? Is dead like sleeping? Will I die when I go to sleep? Can I sleep
in your bed tonight?
And then by the time I’m in bed (trying to ignore the kicking and
thrashing of my traumatized children) I’m starting to question
everything.
But, I mean, where do we go when we die? Heaven? Hell? Is it just a
vast nothingness? Do animals have souls? Dogs must, if anything. I
don’t want to spend eternity somewhere that doesn’t allow dogs in. Why
would an all-knowing Creator create dogs and then not let them run
around in the afterlife? What kind of cruel joke is that? WHY ARE WE
EVEN HERE IN THE FIRST PLACE!? WHAT IS THE MEANING OF LIFE!? AND DID I
REMEMBER TO TURN OFF THE COFFEEMAKER!?
The good news is that after this sleepless night I get to wake up,
covered in little bruises, and do it all over again.
Can’t get enough of Aprill? Can’t wait until next week?
Check out her website at http://aprillbrandon.com/
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