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Broke Wife, Big City
Comic books didn’t prepare me for this
By Aprill Brandon
I’ll be honest. I never gave much thought to my lap. Which is sad really, considering it is the most powerful part of my body.
Oh yes, that squishy fleshy chair I can make appear and disappear at
will is literally the seat of my power. (Pun COMPLETELY intended).
I don’t mean this from a muscular standpoint. Or politically. Or even
aesthetically. No. I mean from a supernatural perspective. The second I
even attempt to sit and form this lap, it mystically summons, from far
and wide, small children. Small, bony, wiggly children. With their
weaponized elbows and butts and knees. Who then must sit on my lap
immediately and are willing to fight each other to the death for the
privilege. (A fight to the death that happens, you guessed it, right
there on my lap).
It doesn’t matter what I’m doing while in possession of this lap.
Eating? Clearly the appearance of my lap at the dining room table meant
I wanted to eat this taco while maneuvering around a toddler’s head.
Working on my laptop? Obviously by sitting I was inviting my
kindergartener to hop on up and “help” by maniacally pushing buttons
and erasing everything I’ve written. Disabling a bomb? Pffft. Whoever
heard of someone doing that WITHOUT a pile of children on top of them?
Likewise, environmental factors matter little. A Fourth of July party
in 101 degree temperatures with a humidity equivalent of one thousand
swamps? Hey mom, seems like a perfect time to sit on you and sprawl out
every inch of my 40-pound frame, unfolding like a sticky octopus.
There is one very important rule, however. Whatever you do while
sitting on my lap, the one thing you absolutely MUST NOT DO is sit
still. Because that would be ridiculous.
But it’s not just my lap. This is a latent superpower pretty much all
moms discover they have, which is why you rarely see a mom sitting. We
know that as soon as we do, our laps will be swarming with children.
Most likely our own but it’s far from unusual to find someone else’s
kid squatting there. Like a beacon, it calls to them.
Small child No. 1: “Do you feel that? A mom in the close vicinity is getting ready to sit and relax.”
Small child No. 2: “Oh no, that won’t do at all. We can’t allow her to enjoy herself. Let’s go!”
*pitter-patter-pitter-patter-pitter-patter*
See, that’s the thing about laps. It’d be one thing if this was all
based on love. If these children just wanted a good cuddle. Who doesn’t
love a good cuddle? But that is not what the majority of lap sitting
is. No. This is about ownership. Property rights. My kids sit on my lap
to stake their claim. “This exhausted worn out husk that was formerly a
person is my property!” their bony butt declares every time it plops
down. And it’s always a plop. Never a gentle perch. Or even a moderate
plonk. Although sometimes, when you least expect it, it’s a flying
leap.
And once they’re on there, very little can pry them off. Property is, after all, nine-tenths of the law.
“GET OFF!” I’ll roar.
“Wiggle even harder!” they hear.
“I have to pee!” I’ll plead.
“Let’s move this party into the bathroom!” they assume.
“Can I just have five minutes to myself?” I’ll ask.
“Fine, fine, clearly what you need is for us to now migrate to your back and put you into a chokehold,” they reason.
Every once in awhile though, just when I’m reaching my threshold and
wondering if woman can live by standing alone, these kids legitimately
need a lap. A nightmare scared them. A friend hurt their feelings. A
day at the beach exhausted them.
Or, the best possible reason, their love suddenly grew too big for
their little bodies to contain and they had to release it by getting as
close to me as humanly possible.
Which is why we moms put up with all of it. Why we risk the bruises and
the plops and the lack of any semblance of personal space. Why a mom’s
lap is always open.
Because when words and band-aids and security blankets fail, a mom’s
lap can tell them, instantly and in no uncertain terms, that they are
loved. And they always will be. And it’s all going to be ok.
And in the end, that’s a pretty amazing superpower to have.
Can’t get enough of Aprill? Can’t wait until next week?
Check out her website at http://aprillbrandon.com/
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