Things That Happen In My Womb

My womb is a special place.  I know that’s true because three of my kids are forever asking if they can go there.

“Mom,” says my 5-year-old, “can I sweep in yo womb?”

“Cael,” I reply, “do you think you can manage to get a broom in my womb?  ‘Cause I know I grew twins in there, and it may appear externally that it’s still capacious, but I’m almost positive that I can’t get a whole broom up there.  Maybe a hand-broom, but a full-size version is right out.”

Cael sighs.  I have offended him.  “Mah-ahm!  I said sweep, not sweep.”

Oh.  My bad.  “OK.  Sorry about that.  So you’re saying you want to sleep in my womb.  Right, Cael?”

“Yes!” Cael replies with exasperation.  “I want to sweep in yo womb.”

“Sure, Cael.  We can have a sweep-over.”

“A sweep-over, Mom!”

“Got it.  A sleep-over.  In my womb.”

“Yes!  Eggsactwee!”

You know, I’m the only person in my house who understands how funny I am.  It’s very lonely for me.

“Mom?” says my 11-year-old son.

“Yes, baby?” I reply.

“I watch T.V. in yo womb?”

There are moments when I feel achingly sad that my son is 11 and has such a severe speech delay.

Other times… well,…

“Don’t you think my womb is a little crowded for a T.V., Ian?  I mean, you know, what with all the cleaning supplies I have to keep in there for sweeping and stuff?”

…I can barely keep my giggles to myself.

“Why you wah-ffing, Mom?  Yo womb just white foe watching T.V.”

“Sorry, Ian,” I apologize, wiping the giggle tears from my eyes.  “You can watch T.V. in my womb.  But no popcorn.  If I find any more pieces of popcorn in my womb, I might lose it.  And no one wants to see mama lose it over popcorn in her womb.  Am I white? Or am I white?”

“Yo white, Mom.  OK.  Yo white.”

Sometimes I’m critical of my womb.   I think my womb is too messy.  It’s alternately too large or too small.  It’s too full of debris from this crazy child-rearing business.  There are too many toast crumbs, and too many doggy paw prints on my pillows.

But I’m working on the Idea of Enough.  That I have enough.  That I am enough.  And when I’m there – in the Enough heart-space – I wee-mem-bow that my womb is just white for this time in my life.  It’s perfect for what I need it to do.  To comfort my children.  To give them access to a busy mama.  To provide respite.

“Mom?” says my 9-year-old daughter.  “Can I take a bath in yo-ah womb?”

To bring me back to joy.

“Of course you can take a bath in my womb, baby girl.  Just step around the T.V. and over the broom.  And no splashing, please.  My womb gets enough of that as it is.”


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9 responses to “Things That Happen In My Womb”

  1. I found your pooping in the closet blog post while fbing and have enjoying your other posts all night. After an overwhelming mom week, the giggles and reminders are just what I need.

    Another messy mom

  2. When I taught kindergarten I was always grateful to have another adult in the classroom to laugh at my silly jokes that 5 year olds never caught. But watch out! Your kids are going to catch on sometime when you don’t think they will! They’re smart that way, you know.

  3. I completely understand being all alone in one’s humor. I can actually be quite witty in English, but try to translate it into Japanese – a language so completely opposite from English to start with – and you just have nonsense. I often get looks from both young and old wondering if I am all there? It is a lonely place to be. But oh so fun to just sit back and laugh and let the world wonder!

  4. I may or may not have read this entire thing as if your children were literally asking to inhabit your body, and your joke wasn’t funny. In retrospect, your joke is great, and I feel more than a little dumb.

    • Bahahaha! This made my day, J.

      Also, I love your blog. You’re funny. I love your emails, too, but I hate that they’re sent to the group without a “reply to J” address included, because I always have things to say back. Dang it.

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