I am Machine.

Sometimes I still dream of perfect children. You know the ones we all dream of before we have children, while we still know everything about parenting? I still think of those children sometimes. How I would dress them, the places we would go, how I would never need to yell because rationalizing with an 18 month old always works. How they would follow me in a neat little row like ducks through a parking lot.
Sometimes, I miss those kids, but the reality is...they are so boring. They are not challenging, or mentally stimulating. They are not kids, they are (to borrow a phrase from a friend) Stepford Children. There are days a Stepford child sounds great. A well oiled robot that just runs, even when Mommy has a cold and pees when she has coughing fits. A life that has kids into the car and on our way without tears and tantrums. I've realized my children are not robots, my life is not a machine, but somewhere deep inside, I am.

If you ask me how I do it, I won't have an answer. I can't even answer my husband when he asks. I don't know. There is a machine inside me. It does what it needs to even when my brain goes on auto pilot. It prioritizes, process and completes tasks that were never even in my imagination till I woke up and had two special needs kiddos. That machine can make two grilled cheese while emptying roomba, attempting to rationalize with a speech delayed 2.5 year old, and empty the dishwasher all at once. That machine can hand pluck loose fur from a dogs butt while I use the bathroom because that kind of multi-tasking SAVES TIME. That machine is smart. I have no idea where it came from.

I was ready to be a Mom. I know that now. I was maybe naive and soft, but I was ready. Good thing because every single day I end up in a place that I never could have dreamed. I did not look forward to watching a toddler pee in the potty by using the toilet seat as a back board. I didn't ever, ever imagine urine every where would make me laugh.