It read, in part, as follows:
child won't stay in bed
Project Runway recaps
crate and barrel locations
toddler ate fertilizer
scaly penis rash
child hitting me in the face
accidentally fed child 2-day-old formula
A detailed investigation of the above list tells me two things. The first is that I really need to take a hard look at the amount of reality television I am currently consuming.
I mean, seriously people, I'm what's wrong with America.
The second is that, as a reflection of my day-to-day parenting skills, those searches are more than a little damning. The list would seem to suggest that my children are violent hooligans who spend their days in a desperate search for sustenance. I want to state for the record that this is almost entirely not so.
I will add in my own defense that my relationship with the Google is much like the one I have with my diary: they are places I tend to turn in times of boredom or panic. Therefore, I think it is wildly unjust to view either's contents as a referendum on my entire existence. Ok?
Speaking of boredom and panic - did you know this fun fact about Post Traumatic Stress Disorder? I was recently reading an article on the subject, and the author was explaining that we think of the military as being stressful because of the constant danger, but this is not the case. What makes service so stressful is instead the fact that one spends most of one's time in a state of gnawing boredom only occasionally broken up by moments of intense danger.
As I read this I thought to myself - I can relate. Long periods of boredom broken up by brief periods of panic?
That's motherhood in a nutshell.
Take for example this sample internal monologue from a typical day in my life:
"Really, Snoodie, you want to read Pajama Time again? Oh Sweet Lord deliver me. What time is it? It must be at least 5 o'clock (glancing at the clock) THREE-FIFTEEN! How is that possible? I think time is actually going in reverse. Is that possible? If only I could take a nap. I'm so bored. So very...OH MY GOD IS THAT A TACK ON THE FLOOR? HOW DID A TACK GET THERE? ARE THERE ANY OTHER TACKS? HOLY CRAP SNOODIE ATE A TACK!"
(Cue trip to the Emergency Room)
That's pretty much the day-to-day reality around here. So, you'll have to forgive me if I forgo the occasional panicked rush to the local hospital and instead turn to the Google to solve my pressing urgent care needs.
Now if you'll excuse me I'm off to do a search on "Delete Google History" followed by "Post Traumatic Motherhood Disorder". I'll get back to you with the results.