The Momma Matrix

I remember when ‘The Matrix’ came out in 1999. Guys everywhere were going nuts over the special effects, the action, and—oh yeah, the chick in the spandex body cast. These high-tech superstars were running up and down the walls, contorting themselves to dodge bullets, and living virtual lives through the headgear that Reading Rainbowpants wore on Star Trek. For the 1990’s, this was some fancy crap! I’d just been regurgitated by the teenage years, so I didn’t understand the true symbolism of the movie when I first saw it. Christian symbolism, reality v perception, moon shoes versus flats….this stuff was obvious, but y’all, this movie is about being a parent: the existence of one façade where everything is routine and by the book, while being overlaid by an unseen cloud of dilemma, problematic circumstances, and kung-fu ninja skills.

When our little blessings are still buns in the oven, we are hammered drunk on illusions of perfection. We dwell on perfect babies that never cry, the river of patience that flows through our veins, and a nursery fit for a little prince or princess. 

I’ll never tell my child to shut up. Yep, that’s all fine and dandy when they CAN’T TALK. 

I’ll make time to read them 17 bedtime stories until their sweet, angelic eyes flutter closed till morning. You show me a kid that drifts off to sleep like this, and I’ll show you a parent that’s giving li’l Johnny a skoosh of Nyquil. 

I’ll feed my child an organic, gluten-free, sugar-free, antioxidant rich diet. After all, if I give them healthy options, they will naturally make healthy choices. Well, guess what, you soy-nut butter and organic jam slathering mommas of the year? You might be lucky and get one of those, but the three little monsters I popped out staged a four year hunger strike when I bought the granola bars without the chocolate chips and the cartoon giraffe on the box. Good luck with that. 

I’ll never make my child feel inferior by disciplining them in a way that would infringe on their personal rights. Oh really? Do you know what my ancestors would say to that philosophy? Not a dad gum thing; they’d just beat my ass for being stupid. If parents were meant to lead their children as an equal, we’d start popping them out when we weighed 6-9 pounds, and we’d hold their hands as we learned to walk at the same time. Little Johnny don’t need a dissertation on misplaced motives when he’s trying to pull that pot of taters off on his head; he needs a smack on his butt to get his attention and protect him from himself. 

KIDS AIN’T BORN WITH FINELY TUNED COMMON SENSE, Y’ALL! Parents have to share their portion with them. That’s why we’ve got so many anemic kids running around, intellectually speaking. I ain’t advocating abusing your kids or blistering their barn doors ‘cuz you’re too lazy to teach them how to act. But when a child is either about to or in the act of doing something stupid…well, please refer to When Parents Cross The Line: The Mason-Dixon Line which addresses cross-curriculum education.

Another recurring theme in this particular Keanu Reeves masterpiece is that of unseen dilemmas:  the ones that remain invisible to outsiders. I remember one particular unseen problem that we dealt with when our youngest son was in prison daycare. Before I get beat up for picking on daycare centers, let me say that there are wonderful daycares out there, and I am all for working moms, especially if you’re lucky enough to actually bring home money after paying your daycare tab. I ain’t one of those, and that’s why I’m a stay at home mom.

But when Rae-Rae went to the big, chain daycare place close to our home, we had a serious problem. Several days, I noticed that although his daily report would say he’s been changed every 12 minutes during the day, he would come home with a raw bee-hind…and then it got even worse. He would come home wearing a 47-lb. diaper that made him look like an elephant was hiding in his drawers. I’d kept this to myself for two days in case it was an accident, but on the third day, I took a marker and colored a dot on the diaper I put him in that morning.

Well, that third day, he came home with rhinoceros butt again, and sure enough, he was wearing the same diaper I’d sent him in that morning. Y’all, he wasn’t in the Mother’s Morning Out program:  he was there 8 hours a day while I worked. Well, it just so happened that Daddy was at the house when I got home with him, and I filled him in on the situation. After he loved on the poor baby for a minute, he snatched that stinkin’ diaper and jumped in his truck. I came close to feeling hate when I saw my baby’s raw tail, but I still didn’t wish on ‘em what I knew was now eastbound and down on Highway 98.

I didn’t go with him, so I don’t know the whole story. All I know is that the Director was told, “If my child comes home like this again, he ain’t gonna be the only one with a red a$$.”  Yeah! That’s my man! It was just another unseen dilemma that crept into our home through the years.

The third way the Matrix resembles parenting is the spontaneously-developed ninja skills you obtain once the wee one arrives. (Dang it, English 101 flashback. Sorry y’all!)
This don’t take much explanation. I didn’t know my 250-lb. husband was an Olympic gymnast until he came home from work one day, picked Bubby up in the air to fly him around, and last night’s formula erupted outta that kid like he was Mount St. Helens. Big Dawg’s got some skillz, y’all! If you’re ever had a baby puke up a soured milk-and-mashed-peas combo into your brassiere, then you’ve probably never channeled your inner Mary Lou Retton. It kinda reminds me of the time that my little blonde angel cleaned the tile, kitchen floor with Pledge and I went full-on, Eddie the Eagle in one fail swoop (with emphasis on the FAIL).

Kids change your life forever, and there ain’t nothing else like it. Think of your transformation as a Karma Chameleon cause once your little bundle of puking, pooping, and peeing joy arrives, you’re gonna pay for every stupid thing you (AND your spouse) ever did to your parents. Bless y’alls hearts… you’re gonna need it.