WONDER FREAKING MOM

We've talked about Superdad and Incredikids, but now it's Wondermom's turn. 

Thanks to the 1970's and 80's we have lost Ms. Cleaver forever.  No, we haven't really lost her, we've downsized her lazy-ass, and coordinated multiple job descriptions for efficiency and economy for the betterment of the family unit.  In other words, we gave her more work, less play, and she was rewarded by keeping her job and doing five others.  Wondermom's, like the modern employees, must do the work of many, but all for the same damn pay.  The unrealistic expectations come in the many roles for Wondermoms.  I'm sure I've missed some, so either comment and tell me what I missed or live with it.  Here are just a few:

Moneymaker:  I'm not talking about the moneymaker June Cleaver used to shake in that dress for Ward after a hard day with the Beav.  I'm talking about getting out there and bringing home the dough like Claire Huxtable. We can thank our parents for solving the nations 70's and 80's money problems by introducing the US to the two-income family (welcome to latch-keys, daycare, and Zoloft).  Today, Wondermoms do it just like Superdads, and that ain't easy.  Juggle job, doctor's appointments, getting Incredikids breakfast and off to school, and God forbid Incredikids gets sick on the day of the big presentation.  Oh yeah, and Incredikids will make you sicker than hell at least twice a year, but you'll slough your way off to work to save the "sick-days" for days when you're not really sick.  If Wondermom is lucky enough to stay home to take care of the kids, it's probably because she put up with Superdad's long road to making that possible, so reap that reward if you can moms (we'll just expect more out of you anyway with all that free time).

Household Technician:  I hate that damn Frontgate Family.  You know that catalog that comes out in the Spring with the pretty rich people on the cover looking perfect.  Who lives like that?  Everything is monogrammed, brand new, and perfectly decorated.  The catalog shows Skip, Buffy, their kids and the shaggy dog in front of their mansion or around their pool sipping mint juleps from plastic crystal.  Yeah, that whole thing is bullshit.  As soon as the camera left, the kids started kicking the crap out of each other, the dog dropped a deuce on the patio, Dad went into his office to "do a little work" sneaking a cigar like a 14-year old smoking one of granny's cigs in the garage, and Mom "ran to the store for a few things" but really stopped in for a few Mother's Little Helpers at the local pub.  No one really lives like that, and while it makes for a good crapper-backer mag, it's not reality and we don't need to try and live like that.

Real families live in their houses, make messes, and sometimes just try to keep the floor visible.  Wondermom has to follow her family of heroes around picking up shoes, clothes, and toys (Superdad too, that lazy slob).  As fast as she picks up, another mess is made, but she'll make sure the house is ready in case house guests happen to show up out of the blue (even then she'll apologize for some reason for the mess).  Superdads, yeah, we help "maintain the house" by putting on the tool-belt here and there and working on "projects." In reality we hide out in a room with the game on super-low hammering here and there to keep the illusion going.  Yard work takes hours, but we make it seem that way to make up for our lack of overall effort  I guarantee you that damn mower takes a long time to start doesn't it?  Your Superdad might just have to drink two to four ice-cold beers from the garage fridge to properly pre-hydrate before getting down to work on such a hot day...(nothing like bud-light and power tools).  Wondermom holds the house together, and for that we salute you.  The thing is it's okay for the house to look lived in, I'm not talking frat-house filth, but who needs freaking pillows on the couch you can't lay on?  What we really want is a little more time with you, and if it means the dishes wait until tomorrow, let em' be baby!

Hells Kitchen:  I stayed home sick last fall and watched afternoon television for the first time in a long time.  Who the hell are these people, and what freaking world do they live in?  They were making this amazing dinner from scratch with presentation like a four-start restaurant.  Organic, hell yeah, and the Wondermom had hit the Farmer's Market to handpick the bok choy or some other exotic veggie I've never heard of.  So between the house, childcare, Superdad care, and Wondermom keeping her moneymaker tight, she's expected to run a healthy, organic, low-fat, yet amazingly tasty kitchen.  The truth is Wondermom is doing great if she gets everyone fed, and it's unrealistic to put that kind of burden on her.  Superdads will each just about anything as long as it tastes decent and the kids will eat it without a fight.  So take a night or two off each week, have dad make "breakfast for dinner"  one night and make sure to have left-overs at least one day during the week.  We'll live.  If you like to cook, let it rock, and thanks to my family's Wondermom and her expertise in with the "eat clean" menu, we have our chef who keeps the Supergut in check. It's no easy task to have dinner ready at night, but believe me it feels awesome to walk into a hot dinner after a long day to make us feel like the king of the castle...even if its only once and a while.

Cougar-Time:  In addition to everything else, Wondermoms are getting crazy about fitness and looks.  I have the benefit of being married to a hardcore triathlete, and yes, that's very good for me.  However, I think it total crap that the media through women's magazines and TV, have portrayed Wondermoms as bony-thin models 12 weeks post-baby who dress like they're going to the Kentucky Derby everyday. First of all, models don't look like that without makeup and air-brushes, so F the media for portraying moms like that.  Second, those aren't real moms, they're women who have the benefit of trainers, dieticians, and their inherent ability to puke on demand like 98 pound jockeys.  Those bitches don't take care of anything, get divorced more than they change the oil in the Range Rover, and have the IQs of a well-developed meth addict.   Sure, workout, take care of yourself, stay healthy, and while you're at it make sure Superdad keeps that gut down to a minimum too, but don't freak out that you can't fit in your wedding dress 20 years later.  I'm sure  Superdad's waist is a little more seasoned than it was when you got hitched, and that's just what happens when we get older.  So quit watching Real Housewives of Wherever, and recognize that we love it that you look hot in sweats and one of our tee-shirts while playing catch in the front yard with Incredikid...that's smoking hot for sure. 

The Calling.  Take it from one Superdad, what we love most is to look at the Incredikids and how much they love you moms.  In the end, we're all going to look like the California Raisins watching Robot Vanna turn the letters on "the Wheel" as we tell Incredikids on speakerphone how to raise their kids.  You'll tell Superdad to turn up his hearing aid, and help him get up from the couch.  We'll share meals that wouldn't have fed one of us 25 years earlier, and our kids will tell us the waistline doesn't start just below your nipples so pull down the damn pants.  I truly hope we all live long enough for those days because this journey is the hardest, most rewarding trip we can ever take, and while it seems tough at times juggling all this other crap, it's damn fine when it all comes together.

Sometimes we just have to remember to enjoy being.  It's okay to pull the hair into a pony, wear the sweats, and forgo the makeup.  Don't worry, we get it.  There are going to be crazy days that require workouts at dawn, multiple stops at the gas station, and even the dreaded Micky-D's dinner concession.  The bottom line is it's great to bring home some cash, look great, cook like Rachel Ray, and keep a beautiful clean home, but in the end it won't matter much if all that comes at the cost of your relationships with the family.  Know that while Superdads don't say it enough, probably because we're too busy with our Fantasy Draft research, playing Words with Friends, or yelling at our favorite team for blowing it in the Stanley Cup Playoffs, we love and appreciate what you do for us. Sure, us Superdads may change a few diapers, go on a few field-trips, and read bedtime stories, but we aren't you and will never be...we get it.  So with Mom's Day soon approaching, please accept this sincere thank you from Superdads everywhere.  

Oh, and thank God you don't have an invisible jet...the Cheerios, apple cores, juice box stains, and papers jammed in the console would look like shit.