My husband and I have a contest going on, to see which one of us will have the better set of abs, by the time he returns from deployment. As I was getting dressed this morning I found myself studying my abs. I actually have nice abs. Unfortunately they are scared of cold temperatures, and are bundled underneath a nice warm layer of, what I like to think of as "The ab quilt".
So while I stare in dumbstruck wonder as my freshly cleaned living room is demolished, within mere minutes of letting the small ones loose, a little demented voice in the back of my mind chants "Tighten your abs Tighten your abs. Tighten your abs.". And, like any self-respecting mother on the verge of sobbing, I do exactly what the little voice tells me.
I tighten my abs as I remove the glass hurricane lamp from the grasp of the visiting 13-month old (while wondering how she manage to get it off the shelf 4 feet above her head).
I tighten my abs as I wrestle wooden blocks and duplos from the dog's grasp and replace it with the nylabone, that clearly isn't as much fun as legos.
I tighten my abs as I scrub peanut butter off of the walls, and search through a sea of k'nex for the right piece to the 4 year old's pirate ship.
I tighten my abs while I prepare 18 snacks for two children.
I forget to tighten my abs when the 13-month old starts eating the dog food, and table dancing.
I forget where my abs are when the 4 year old has a nervous breakdown because his stuffed dog wandered off.
I cannot comprehend the meaning of the word "tighten" unless it is in reference to the grip one child has on another child's hair.
By the end of the day, as I'm sitting down, with my feet propped up, indulging in something containing dark chocolate, I decide before we take off our shirts to compare abs, my dear husband has to drink a 6-pack.