Mommies, Sugar, Fiddles, and Goats

My little sister is nearing the end of her pregnancy. She is experience the “baby kicking the ribs” stage. She was craving sugar, which in her mind translated to “Baby X is craving sugar. I’m going to give it to him.” Not a good idea, especially if the baby is already kicking the shit out of your ribs. I told her,” The last thing he needs is sugar. It’s like crack. He will gain super-human strength and crack your ribs.”

She ate cookies anyways. I wasn’t surprised to get a text from her saying baby X was obliterating her ribs as we spoke. She said…and I quote, “Huge mistake. I guess that’s what I get for being a good mommy.” Because giving your fetus/child sugar makes you a good mommy. That’s rule #1 for all you budding Momma’s out there. Sugar is love. Sugar means “Shut up, I love you.” (Hello, Valentine’s Day anyone??)

As a mother of three I could’ve told her that would happen. Wait- Back track. I did! I told her that, before she consumed unscrupulous amounts of sugar, but we will bypass that little bit of info. Semantics, right?!

As the amazing big sister that I am, I gave her my motherly expert advice. Because, after all, I am an expert. I’m an expert at all things children. Just ask my kids. The goats (kids), not my actual children. My children will tell you the truth, and the truth will make this post invalid. I don’t think my children are normal. I digress.

So I told my sister, “Oh! It gets better when they get older, and you try to be a good mommy. These bastards will play you like a fiddle.” That’s my piece of advice for every mother out there. Just know as your child gets older, you will be a fiddle. One worn out, over played, crusty ass fiddle. But we love being fiddles, and fiddles make beautiful music, right?

If an instrument sat in the attic untouched unable to make its beautiful sounds, it is a waste. I want my children to play me. Use my strings until they break. Pick me up every day for hours on end, and use me for the purpose I was created for. Play me like a fiddle. I will screech. I will make really weird sounds and give you blisters and shit, but we make a great team. If you play me right, I will take you to the top. You’ll wear me out, until I just can’t make beautiful music anymore. Then, you will lay me in my velvet lined case and put me away forever, but all the memories of sweet music we made together will live on. So ya, you little bastards, play us!! We are built to with stand a hell of a lot of playing. And I have a warranty.