Tracy Mayor - Mommy Prayers: For the missing binky, the late preschool pickup, the birthday party from hell . . . and other everyday absurdities
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- Book:Mommy Prayers: For the missing binky, the late preschool pickup, the birthday party from hell . . . and other everyday absurdities
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We all pray for world peacebut only moms need a Prayer at Preschool Pickup: O God, please dont let me be late. Please keep the light green for just one more second. Please fill the small, tight heart of the program director with mercy and pity so that she doesnt charge me the completely outrageous $1-per-minute late fee.
What if there were a whole volume of prayers just for the frustrations, absurdities, and joys that moms of little kids face every day Now there is: Mommy Prayers, a wry and witty manual for young mothers. The prayers cover early mornings (Please God, let the baby go back to sleep. Let her find her thumb. Give me just a half hour more.) to noon and night, with entreaties for dozens of special occasions sprinkled in (Prayer for the Halloween Costume and Prayer Before the Plane Ride).
Whether seeking divine intervention for help with a biting toddler or a mother-in-laws extended visit, frazzled moms will find comfort in this heartwarming and entertaining collection. Its the perfectly heavenly gift.
Topics include: Prayer for the Five-Minute Shower, Prayer Upon Leaving Work at 5 p.m. on the Dot, Prayer for Daddy Coming Through the Door, Prayer on Date Night, Prayer on the Fifth Day of Rain, Prayer Upon Exiting the Aircraft, and many more.
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For Tom, Connor, and Will
the answer to all my prayers
This Book Is a Gift For:
Crazy Days
for the Binky
Dear God, Please help me find my babys . I know theyre bad for dental development. I know they encourage early weaning and ear infections. None of that matters right now. Please, Lord, send me a vision: Show me where the damn is! Its 5:15 in the morning and I must stop this kid from crying before the whole house is up. Is it in the dusty corner under the crib? Wedged into the side cushions of the stroller? Underneath the car seat? In the right footie of my babys snowsuit, which is where I found my keys last week? Please, God, give me a hint, bestow on me the clarity of mind to remember where I last saw the . And quick. Amen.
for My Five-Minute Shower
Dear God, I am not asking for much here, just five kid-free minutes to myself. Im not asking for a good showerthe one where you shave your legs and pumice your heels and slather your limbs with sea-salt-lemon-mimosa foaming body scrub and exfoliate whatever bits need exfoliating. Nothing like that. Just five minutes under a stream of hot water so I can shampoo the ick out of my hair, slop on a little conditioner, swipe my face with one of the babys washcloths, and just be . Please let there be peace while this happensplease, no sibling fights, no screams from the crib, no toddlers taking a header down the stairs, no phone calls or doorbells. I left everyone safe and happy, please could they just stay that way until Im done? Then, I promise, I will emerge like Lazarus from the tomb to be a patient and sweet-tempered mom ready to start her daywith shiny hair to boot. Thank you.
for a Sick Sitter
Dear Lord, Please bless and protect my beloved sitter, who seems to have come down with the flu even though its technically not flu season. Please send your healing powers her way. Please restore her to robust good health as soon as possible. Tomorrow, for example, would be great. Lord, Im trying very hard not to be a selfish Mombot hereyou know I adore my sitter and truly do care about herbut I cant lie either, this is just a really, really bad time for me to be out of the office, and my husbands already used up all his sick days, personal days, and vacation days. Were scraping the bottom of the barrel here, Lord, so please let her find the strength to stagger forth tomorrow. Though if she does, Lord, please somehow let her not be contagious anymore. Because the one thing worse than a sitter with the flu is two kids with the flu. Thank you, Lord.
for the Conference Call from Home
Dear God, What number was I supposed to dial in to? What time was I supposed to dial in? And, please Lord, please dont let me have left all my notes for this call at the office. I try to be flexible, God, but did the sitter really have to come down with the flu today of all days? As you might recall, my team at the office has been prepping for this call for weeks, and now the big day arrives and Im stuck home with a hyper toddler and a fussy infant who wont nap when he knows Mommys in the house. Forget calculating how many angels can dance on the head of a pinwhat I need to know is, how loud can I turn up Sesame Street before my clients can hear Big Birds maniacal laugh on their end of the line? Please, God, let my little ones become magically mesmerized by PBS, just for the duration of the call. I promise Ill be the best, most attentive mother ever, for the rest of the dayright after I hang up. Until then, Lord, take pity on me? Thanks.
for the Car Seat
Dear God, Is there a reason why this goddamnedexcuse me, blasted car seat wont click in? Am I doing something wrong? Aside, of course, from muttering every curse word I know right into my babys ear as I try to get this thing working. Ive been diligent. I did my homework. We spent three weeks and untold hundreds of dollars buying the most perfect seat for our baby, our car, our lifestyle (comfort foamwho knew we needed that ?). I read all fifteen pages of the instruction booklet, I downloaded the Important Consumer Updates. I now know enough to give an impromptu lecture on the benefits of the LATCH system. The harness straps are perfectly adjusted, the babys sitting at the age-appropriate angle, everything is correct. My kid could hurtle off a cliff in this thing and emerge uninjured, if only the damn buckle would click in. Okay, perhaps there is half a bagel jammed down there, also a few random Goldfish. Please, God, could you just overpower that gunk with your might? Sometimes a little majesty from on high is better than any human engineering, and Im thinking now is one of those times. Just one zap from you and were on our way! Thanks, God. I owe you one.
on My Yoga Mat
Dear God, Because I know you cherish each and every one of us as unique individuals of your creation, I just wanted to report that the beautiful body that I used to inhabit is missing in action. If youve seen it in your travels through the universe, I would like it back. Once upon a time, I was that hot yoga chick in the front of the class, moving with great power and precision (also with a great ass, thank you Lululemon Groove Pants) through Mountain, Garland, Forward Fold, Monkey, Plank, Downward-Facing Dog, and on and on. Now I unroll my mat in my toy-strewn family room, inhale deeply, and think Wow, moldy! I really need to soak this thing in tea tree oil. Not quite the enlightenment I was after. I lie here, curled up in Child Pose, trying to stretch out a back thats tight and sore from dragging the stupid baby carrier everywhere, and all I can focus on is how ginormous my boobs, belly, thighs, and butt have become. They should call this Child birth Pose. Help me to be at peace with the new, larger me while my body does the right thing and loses the baby weight slowly and naturally (nine months on, nine months off). But when the time is right, Lord, could I maybe get that killer ass back? Just asking, and thanks.
for My Fashionable Coworker
Dear God, Here we go with todays fashion show. If its a Tuesday, or any other completely ordinary day at the office, you can be sure my style-obsessed office mate is rocking a Marc Jacobs pencil skirt, a DKNY white shirt topped with a Proenza Schouler cotton-cashmere wrap, Charlotte Ronson over-the-knee boots, and an Alexander McQueen squeeze clutch in black patent leather. And lets not forget the citrine earrings with brown diamonds and yellow gold from one of her old boyfriends. Im not one bit jealous of her look. Im secure in my time-squeezed mommy-on-a-budget office uniform, which consists of whatever pre-baby suit or pants I can zip myself into that day, topped by whichever shirt is a) ironed and b) not adorned with spit-up on one or both shoulders. Im a generous person, Lord. I sincerely hope my fashionable friend is enjoying every inch of her sky-high bone-thin frame and feeling fulfilled by spending her single-no-kids income however her heart desires. In the meantime, God, I take comfort in knowing the meek shall inherit the earth. Shall the frumpy get something too? Heres hoping.
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