Wish List

I currently live with a person who after walking upstairs on her own, decided she would rather I had carried her and so screamed at and pleaded with me for twenty minutes to return downstairs with her so I could lug her back up. Spoiler: I did not.

This same person, who is by no coincidence on the verge of three-years-old, has staged similar dramas recently over how her apple is or is not sliced, her need to physically touch her oatmeal before it is served, and her new-found hatred of her body’s continuous demand that she regularly utilize the toilet.

During intermittent times of calm, I assure my darling she is not alone. I, too, would prefer the world contort to grant my every wish and I lament that I should ever be the slightest bit put out or uncomfortable.

The-I-Want-Everything-to-Be-Exactly-as-I-Want-it-Exactly-When-I- Want-it-to-Be wish, is the mother of all wishes. If it were to come true, all other desires would fall within the realm of this all- encompassing wish and be rendered unnecessary.  But, as neither genie nor godmother has ever been known to grant either the ultimate wish or infinite wishes, I thought it best to narrow my wants to a most entirely frivolous list of specifics.

I want to sit somewhere that isn’t sticky.

I want our house to look even slightly improved by the hours of cleaning I put in, instead of mess bombs exploding afresh behind me as I go along.

I want my family to also enjoy the foods I like. I’m tired of not eating mushrooms. 

I want the ability to freeze time (or maybe just the children) at will,  in order to enjoy some alone time with my husband when we’re not both asleep.

I want my children to verbally acknowledge me when I ask them to do or stop doing something before I’ve repeated myself so many times that I began to count to three and they stop what they were doing and it turns out they could hear me the whole time.

I want to be alone when I feel like it and be around people when I feel like it and when I’m around people, I don’t want to be around people I don’t want to be around.

I want a warning signal that flashes when I don’t want people to talk to me and would be open to having a colorful light implanted in my forehead. 

I want to go grocery shopping alone, not just without my kids. I don’t want anyone else in the store, except an employee in every aisle just in case I can’t find something.

I want a helicopter.

I want laundry to be someone else’s problem, but only if they can do it as efficiently as I do.

I want it to be sixty-five degrees and partly cloudy every day and rain only when I feel like making soup and snuggling on the couch with a book.

I want a replica of any one of Martha Stewart’s craft spaces.

I want my pre-baby boobs back.

I want PMS that is in any degree less severe than what I have.

I want my abdominals to acknowledge that I exercise several times a week and respond accordingly.

I want a weed free garden without use of harmful chemicals or any effort on my part.

I want to abolish mosquitoes.

I want the cat to poop outside.

I want a pipeline of chocolate chips from the factory to my house.

I want to personally meet every chicken, cow, lamb and fish I eat, while it’s alive, to make sure it has had a happy life and thank it for it’s contribution to my diet.

I want everyone on the planet to realize that “All these religions, all this singing, is one song. The differences are illusion and vanity.” (Rumi)

I want all people to be good to themselves and each other.

And to prove that I am, above all else, a mother. If I could have only one wish, I would ask for a guarantee that I’m not screwing up my kids. Probably. Either that or the chocolate chip thing.