Wednesday, November 6, 2013

Once Upon A Time

I wanted to write this post because I hear all the time, "life is not a fairy tale!" While that may be true as far as being able to sum up the vast majority of your years in a simple three-word phrase "happily ever after," the fact is that in a myriad of ways, life is very much like a fairy tale.

Let me count the ways:

In our house, it's more rare that someone isn't running out the door without a shoe. Or even pants. But usually a shoe.

In the original Little Mermaid (the one Disney doesn't like to talk about), when she gets her legs from the sea witch, the Mermaid's feet bleed and experience stabbing pain with every step. Last week, I stepped on a Lego brick. Enough said.

"Hey, mom, I forgot my homework is to spin gold into straw, and it's due tomorrow!! I need help!"
"Hey, honey, the church needs someone to spin gold into straw by Sunday, so I told them we could do it. Of course, I just found out I have to work late, so...can you help?" The worst part is, no one will take my first-born child as payment for anything. If I pawn the kid off, even for a few hours, I have to pay THEM for the privilege. What a rip.

I can only go to the ball if I get all my chores done too, and sure enough, they suddenly multiply.

According to my children, nearly all apples are poison. The only thing more poisonous are vegetables. And I'm the old hag peddling them.

You work and work and work, but when you finally get into a good deep sleep, someone wakes you up with a slobbery kiss, or an announcement that they peed their pants.

Slaying dragons? Who has an actual problem with dragons these days?! I am, however, a first-class under-the-bed-monster hunter.

Some days, I'm both Beauty and the Beast.

I've traded my voice for obeying before. It's involves even more yelling than you'd think, and it usually ends up as a raw deal all around, just like in the story.

Small people think my hair is a magical rope that can hold their body weight. It can't.

When I'm not looking, elves come into my home, but instead of helping with chores, they sneak food and make messes.

No, birds and mice don't actually help my kids get dressed. But clearly, someone is feeding them ideas, and that person or thing has never heard of a weather report or matching.

After a day of overcoming obstacles, battling tantrums, long journeys filled with trial, physical feats of strength and agility, excessive amounts of thankless chores, all while struggling to maintain grace, beauty, and sweetness, the prince strolls in just before bedtime, throws around a few goodnight kisses, and somehow, he's the hero of the story.

A princess lives here. With every last one of her related licensed products.

Every so often, I get to dress up and go out for a special night. Then the prince and I glance at the clock and drive home as if our car will turn into a pumpkin to avoid spending any more money on a sitter.

Our story may not be the "happily ever after" of little girls' dreams, but it's an ongoing tale of adventure, peril, triumph, comedy, and even magic. Not a bad narrative if you ask me.

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