There is No Mommy, Only Zuul

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A mother getting her hair pulled by her children.Back in my single days, I would leave when I wanted, do what I wanted, and not have to answer to anyone. If I felt like going to White Castle at 11:37 p.m., I’d do it. Even when I lived with my father, he’d ask where I was going, and I’d quickly reply, “Out,” and that was the end of the discussion.

I was a free spirit, coming, going, and doing as I pleased. 

Those were the days, and it is lovely to reminisce every once in a while. But, alas, I don’t live in single land anymore. As a married woman, I don’t do many spontaneous activities. The other night, we went out to Stop & Shop at 6:14 p.m. because my husband was hungry and wanted some apples!

It slowed down even more when my daughter popped into the world. I’m such a homebody now that I’m just a shell of what I used to be. Don’t get me wrong; I wouldn’t trade this life for anything else. Now, I spend most of my days answering the multiple questions of a 2-year-old. 

“Mummy, what you doing?” (My husband is Irish and spells ‘Mommy’ as ‘Mummy.’ It just stuck with me now).

“Mummy, what is that?”

“Mummy, what you doing?” 

“Mummy, what you doing?”

“Mummy, you doing?” {I guess because by shortening it, she can get it out faster}.

And because I didn’t hear her the first 10,000 times.

“Mummy.”

“Mummy.”

“Mummy, you doing?” {I was still doing the same thing she asked the first million times, and it’s still no different}

I’ve gone from answering to no one, not even my husband, to answering a teeny, tiny parole officer. 

It’s gotten to the point that I feel like Dana from Ghostbusters when she gets possessed by Zuul, and Venkman keeps on asking for Dana. She quickly responds, “There is no Dana, only Zuul.” 

Mummy is gone; she disappeared 500 questions ago, and in her place is Zuul to bring on Gozer the destroyer.