We just watched the most recent Mission Impossible movie, and I found myself envious of the adventurous, adrenalin-pumping, fictional lives of the secret agents. Wearing disguises and jumping off buildings is compelling to a mom who spends most of her time in the house. In fact, I feel like adventure is basically the opposite of my life at the present moment. Every day is more or less the same. Poop, milk, cheerios, “don’t hit your brother.”
So if I let my over-active imagination get carried away, I’d like to daydream for a moment about how life as a mom is like being a super spy secret agent. (Yeah, super and secret.) After all, we do have some similar skills:
As moms, we acquire some super human skills that go widely unacknowledged. Before you had kids, could you run from the other side of the room to catch a baby’s head from hitting the ground? Or carry all your groceries in one arm and the carseat in the other?
Moms don’t even know how to do just one thing at a time. We clean the bathroom while the kids are in the bath. We make eggs, unload the dishwasher, and conflict manage, all while holding a baby. I’ve heard that MOM actually stands for Master of Multitasking.
Did that sneaky little turkey take a cookie and run behind the couch? Peripheral vision is enhanced after you have children. They don’t say moms have eyes in the back of there heads for nothing!
Moms speak Toddler. What is indiscernible babble to most is actually a little opinion that needs to be expressed. Speaking Toddler eases tension between the natives and hostiles.
Focus under pressure
Real example: Dinner in the oven is done and on the verge of burning. The neighbor kid at the door wants you to buy their’s schools latest fundraiser item. Child 1 is hungry and is crying. Child 2 wants milk, and has a dirty diaper. What do you do first?
Able to save the world from certain disaster
You may not save the world from peril as a Mom, but you do save your toddler from certain disaster daily. I don’t know about your little one, but mine prefers knives and fire and electricity to his toys. He does so many scary things, it takes all my agent/mom skills to keep him safe. (See extreme baby proofing.)
Day dreaming aside, I’m fairly certain I would make the worst spy in recorded history. I can’t remember numbers — and you know how they’re always giving addresses and codes in messages that self destruct. And they don’t even say it twice. I hate hurting people’s feelings, and probably couldn’t bring myself steal someone’s car or bike. I have a fear of heights, so climbing on the side of skyscrapers and up empty elevator shafts isn’t going to work. And I would surely scream if someone were to chase me.
So until someone is in need of an out-of-shape super spy who can’t remember numbers, I guess I’ll stick to my mom job. And leave you with this:
Secret Agent Mom
Secret Agent Mom
They’ve given you a baby and taken away your name.