The Bear Necessities

Savoring the necessities of life is nothing new to me. As a busy high school student, I relished the times I could sleep all I wanted and just eat with abandon, instead of snatching a nap during a video clip in history class or cramming in a granola bar before softball practice. Since becoming a mother, this appreciation has been taken to Mt. Everest-esque heights; I have begun to cling to every memory of a bite or snooze taken in peace with the ferocity of a drowning sailor clinging to a piece of driftwood. Except if I really was a sailor clinging to a scrap of wood, I'd either be so excited for a moment alone that I'd fall into a delighted stupor right there and sink to the bottom of the ocean, thus eliminating my need for driftwood. Or, I'd start plucking fish out of the water and stuffing them into my sleeves to stave off the inevitable, "Oh, Mom. Glad you didn't drown ... So, what's for dinner?" that would ensue as soon as the rescue boat hauled me aboard.
Anyway, the necessities of life/luxuries of motherhood are a big deal.
Our morning schedule has recently changed; Judsen's school and JJ's teething have "encouraged" me to get up much earlier than I would like. But, I'm trying to have a good attitude about it, so I get out of bed and try to get things accomplished, even though I'm still tired. (Even if I stayed in bed, it would do no good, as Felicity has recently taken to ripping the covers off my body and hollering, "Mom! Get up! Get up! The sun come-d up! And I'm hungry!!"  And yes, I understand that the fine print in the motherhood contract reads, "By engaging in this profession, you will henceforth and forever feel like you've been run over by a truck.")
So, when my alarm went off the other morning, I had already been up for an hour and a half. The girls were somehow still magically asleep, so I jogged into the other room to turn off the raucous singing. And sitting there, blinking its innocent little doe-eyes at me was the "Snooze" button. Up to this point, I had been handling the morning well, feeling proud of myself for getting things accomplished and not even having a terrible attitude about it. But when that little electronic bully started taunting me with "Hey, Seph? Wanna little snooze?", my mind flashed white hot and I wanted to slap that smug red button off my iPhone's screen and scream back, "You think that's funny?? Of course I want to snooze! That's all I've ever wanted! Well, I'll show you snooze!!"
Thankfully at that moment, my too-long-ignored semi-reasonable alterego decided to speak up. "Sephonnie, calm down. It's just a phone, for goodness sake. Just words on a screen. It's not trying to make fun of you."
Reasonable and I had a little tug-of-war, but finally, with a dirty glance back at my cellular device, I let her win and went back into the kitchen.
It's not just moms that crave these necessities, I've found, though. Josh went to "put the kids to bed" the other night, which I was very grateful for. I walked into their room a few minutes later to enjoy the fruits of his labor and found an all-out circus. JJ is doing squats in her crib, giggling and cheering on her siblings as Judsen and Felicity sprint laps around the obstacle course they've built, consisting of their mattresses, some toys and books and the dozing form of their father, who is fast asleep on Felicity's bed. Sometimes you just have to laugh, shake your head, and back away quickly before they notice you and you also end up face-down, fallen in bedtime combat next to your comrade-in-arms.
Food is not really more successful than sleep in our house, I realized in wonder-awe-disgust the other night when I had been working like a crazy person way past dinnertime. After we put the kids in bed, I was cleaning up their leftovers. Overcome with hunger and an animal-like frenzy, I scarfed down the macaroni and cheese that sat congealed at the bottom of their bowls, not stopping until it was gone to look around and make sure no one was watching the death of my dignity.
The kids are good at making sure I feed them, though. We talk about food a lot. Judsen announces loudly, "I want a donut. Those are scrum-ectable!" While digging at the playground, Judsen decides he's digging for big diamond, but Felicity says excitedly, "I'm digging for a big peach!" JJ watches her siblings as they come marching into my bedroom in the morning with a roll of candy they proclaim that they would like for breakfast. JJ has already awoken, eaten her breakfast, and gone back to sleep, I thought. I take the candy from J&F and set it next to me in bed and all of a sudden, I feel Little Octopus wiggling around. I look over in surprise to find JJ not only awake, but grinning at me around the entire roll of candy she has stuffed into her cute little pie hole. Let us note here that she's only 8 months old; she shouldn't know that candy is something to be revered and then devoured quickly in case of competitors. Apparently my sweet tooth has been bred in to my offspring.
During lunch preparations, the kids holler requests at me and play while they wait. The other day they're playing super heroes and shouting out their super hero names. "I'm Captain America!" "I'm Iron Man!" "JJ is Firestar!" And then, "Mom, what is your super hero name?" Inspired by their game, I try to think of something catchy and fabulous based on what I'm really good at, what my mad skills are. The best I can come up with? "I am the Amazing ... Lunch Lady."
And I can never just put lunch down on the counter and walk away. My children insist on having it presented with an Iron Chef flourish. "No, Mom. We're the judges and you're Cat Cora. What is the secret ingredient?" "Um...lunch." "No, Mom. Tell us what you made." So we go through the list while they spout off their opinions on if I did a good job or not. Oy. By the time we're done with all this, the only thing I can think of to make for myself for lunch is pancakes, and those have recently been outlawed by Felicity. About a month ago, we drove past IHOP. Standing out on the corner, was a giant mascot-type pancake. Yes, a pancake. With huge eyes. Waving at the people driving by. The kids thought it was funny for a minute, but then at every corner they apparently had Vietnam flashbacks and started asking worriedly, "Where's the pancake with eyes? He's going to get us!" Now whenever we drive past an IHOP, I have to distract them and get them to look the other way, so we don't have a meltdown about where the scary phantom pancake with giant eyes is hiding.
And what do I get for all my trouble? What do I earn for keeping my little bear cubs supplied with life's necessities? I get early-morning presents from Judsen ("Here Mom! I have something for you!" - an old dish sponge), I get to listen to Felicity's ballads about her life: "I am a cow-boooooy. Cowboys have binoculars. And a belllllt. I am a cow-booooy." I get to feel JJ's tiny hands attempt to pinch my nose because she's already learned that I hate that and all the other kids and Daddy think it's funny to try. I get to watch them wrestle with each other and hear them ask questions like "Where are those humans going?" when they see other people at the park. I get to drag them through the grocery store as they drop to all fours, panting and slobbering and crawling like baby grizzlies. And seriously, even though life's necessities may be in short supply for me, if this sacrifice means I get to be Mama Bear to these little cubs, I'll take it. And just wait patiently for the winter I get to hibernate for four months straight.