It's a well-known (though perhaps not well-documented) fact that mommies have super powers. Able to tackle mountains of laundry in a single afternoon, adept at dodging spit-up and whole food projectiles, accelerating to warp speed (um, I mean driving carefully) to ensure children are dropped off at school/practice/daycare on time, preparing gourmet (ok, edible) meals out of mere scraps, etc.
And while few have written about this amazing (and ever-humble) creature, even less has been recorded about her arch enemy...the children! Doesn't that sound just awful? But before you gasp in horror, consider the following:
In the beginning they seem harmless enough. A tiny fetus in the womb, floating around. They begin the assault by sucking away away supermom's willpower...The gluttonous consumption of not 1 but 3 snickers bars at 11pm. Then, suddenly, her ability to retain even small amounts of urine - gone! Next to go - the ability to lie down comfortably. Or stand comfortably. Or sit comfortably.
These sneaky creatures etch their marks upon her expanding belly, back and thighs, much like Voldemort in Harry Potter. (Only Harry just had a scar on his forehead. Lucky guy!)
When they emerge, they steal supermom's ability to sleep soundly and literally suck calories right out of her body! (Okay, so maybe they're not all bad.)
As they age, their attacks move into the mental realm rendering her unable to finish a sentence, remember where the van keys are, or perform simple mathematical calculations [if we are going to lunch and baby might nap and might have a blowout, how many diapers and changes of clothes will I need?]
Then the little darlings attack supermom's body again, drawing wrinkles on her forehead and sucking the color right out of her hair as she sleeps (or tries to sleep).
As they age, their arsenal increases. They begin to use more sophisticated and highly effective weapons. For example, the hug. When hit with one of these, they rapidly suck away supermom's ability to hold a grudge. A kiss can take her breath away. A gift (dandelion, picture, feather, etc.) can bring her to tears.
Supermom surrenders. She realizes they have captured her heart. Resistance is futile. It's kind of like the The Stockholm Effect; she begins to identify with her captors.
She guesses (correctly) that this siege began the moment she realized the child existed. Many a-supermoms have had their hearts broken by children who were never birthed.
I realize that through the years, my heart will be elevated and broken by my children, over and over. My sanity will be under attack, and my body will be irrevocably altered. And while I (incessantly) complain, I wouldn't have it any other way.