Mommies' Magic Secrets Revealed

Some words that come to mind when I think of a magician are entertainer, illusionist, performer, charmer, escape artist, wizard, and occasionally genius.  After pondering all the things we mommies do to survive just one day, I firmly believe those words describe us, too. 

Mommies are most certainly entertainers.  In fact we spend roughly 90% of our day entertaining our children, significant others, our neighbors, co-workers, the general public, etc.  Face it - we're funny, unpaid comedians.  We are diversified actors that can take on any genre from drama to suspense to action.  We consistently play the role of alien in our own sci-fi show and sometimes venture to the horror realm as zombies.

We just may be the best illusionists to have walked the planet.  We are walking, talking optical illusions.  We spend the brunt of our day in an exhausted haze while attempting to take care of our own needs when those of others naturally come first, multi-tasking between chores, errands, parenting, discipline, and yes, indeedy - entertaining.  We amaze all with the visual phenomena that we epitomize.  Some of the secrets to our illusions include:

• Eyes in the Backs of Our Heads:  It's actually a sixth sense.  We just know when something bad is about to occur.  We sense it when Bobby is about to get out of time-out to push his sister...again...we simply visualize who stole the cookies from the cookie jar (we are experts at determining guilt & innocence).
• The Extending Arm:  While listening to screams with a smile, we can extend one arm at least 6 inches to reach the fallen paci stuck in a car seat, catch a cup before it spills, and we may nearly tear our rotator cuff, but we can wrangle the legs and arms that are flailing at our driver seat because we refused to buy the Fruity O's.  Standing our ground is imperative, & it's something moms do best.
• The Button:  We manage to hold things together.  Where there's a hole we promptly patch it up.  We do this by casting all of our other tasks aside and handling the matter at hand immediately.
• Departing Fake-out:  "Goodbye, Bobby!  I'm going home!"  We use said phrases when a kid has gotten out of control or is refusing to listen & leave when we say it's time to go, but we don't really mean this.  Unless...the kid is uber head strong...which was the case when my brother demanded a pretzel at Richway at the age of 10.  My mother pulled the Departing Fake-out and he absolutely refused to follow.  She left the store, calmly directed her two scared yet obeying daughters into the back of the station wagon, and circled the parking lot until he ran out of the store crying for her.  Sometimes this illusion must be grandiose to be effective.

Combine a stay-at-home mom's roles on a salary calculator, and she'd be worth more than some of the highest paid CEO's and should certainly be considered worth more than Oprah.  Working moms are champs, too, and I'm amazed at the order in their homes.  Moms are performers.  We perform numerous roles all day long from nurturer to enforcer, cop to attorney, cook to janitor, facilities manager to teacher, chauffeur to psychologist...the role play is dauntingly never ending.  As wives we also role play, but those secrets are only shared in the inner sanctum of book clubs, play groups, and other places where men are absent. 

While performing, we moms must also be charming.  We are expected to rarely let the public see that we are coming apart at the seams.  When our child throws itself down in the cereal aisle demanding the box with the toy & most sugary contents inside, we are to smile at any and all passersby that ignorantly make snide remarks.  The one remark that leads me to envision knocking said passerby's teeth out:  "Looks like you've got your hands full."  Don't say that.  Don't ever say that to a mom.  She may be on the edge, and you may find yourself needing dentures.

Hence, we are escape artists.  Given situations like the latter moms must escape and be creative in planning  routes.  Sometimes this means a full grocery cart is left behind for some poor store clerk to discover, grumble over, and restock, but there's always an escape route.  Most moms seek it as they enter any retail store and know it like the back of their hand.  Even in the confines of our homes we are escape artists.  My cherished, secret hideout is my closet.  It triples as my phone booth, occasional safe house where my tension breakers can  be safely unleashed, and sadly it's become sanctuary.  It's where the tiger disappears to after "Abra Cadabra" (or some other choice words) has been exclaimed (muttered...).

Our wizardry is unparalleled.  We have amazing skills.  We are excellent jugglers.  We consistently astonish crowds with our clever feats.  On occasion skeptics may even refer to us as witches (or worse), but once again we simply smile and disregard their blatant disrespect and idiocy.  We can gracefully emulate the octopus.  It's too bad that evolution hasn't yielded more arms to moms over time.  They invisibly seem to grow as our families do though.  History has shown that moms can silently treat just about any bad behavior, and they don't need a wand to do it.  The Silent Treatment has proven to be more effective than displaying anger by yelling, etc.  At times, our children observe us and must imagine us wearing dark, sparkly cloaks and pointy hats (our husbands probably do, too). 

Lastly, we wizards can cast a spell sure to change any child's future.  It consists of ten little words:  "Someday, I hope you have a kid just like you." 

This powerful curse has been time tested & handed down from mother to child for generations.  It works.  My kids suddenly become nudists after bath time just as I was as a child.  They are neurotic about their territory and overly protective of their things.  They fearlessly seek adventure and enjoy jumping from furniture and other heights.  Their shins are covered in bruises as they've inherited my klutzy propensity.  They have the ability to be deaf to my demands just as I did to my poor mom.  It's the magically perplexing circle of life...

Now that I've revealed some of this mommy's magic, I hope fellow mommies will share their tricks, too.  Pass them along to other mommies, and when your daughters are married and old enough to have their own children (say around 25+), share your magic with them, but share in a way that isn't overbearing.  Momzillas are real.  Don't be one.  Indeed some of mommy's magic is innate, ingrained in a female's peculiar DNA, but some of it comes from a mommy's tremendous experience.  At times a mommy's experiences are overwhelming, but for the most part experiencing motherhood is purely magical.