My sister’s bachleorette party is this weekend, and although I promised her no penis-shaped necklaces or shot glasses, I still felt that no ladies night would be complete without a few raunchy-themed items. So, off I went to the local sex shop. At 1pm. On a Wednesday. And apart from the surprise that I had when I realized how many older business people frequent sex shops during their lunch hours (for much more serious purposes than mine; like the 60-something man who was having a rousing chat with the sales clerk about which lube worked- and tasted- best), I made a much more serious discovery.

I had become a complete prude.

I am not sure when it happened. In my younger days, I had candid and colourful discussions about sex without batting an eyelash. X-rated movies were no big deal to me (they were mostly just hilarious). I’ve even been to a strip club or two. But today, I was just an awkward, uncomfortable, red-faced mom trying to keep a straight face while browsing the “fetish” section (handcuffs and bondage tape and whips…oh my!).

The entire time I was in the store, I kept telling myself, “Your’re a grown adult…what is the big deal? Why are you so embarrassed?!” But I never got an answer. And thinking about it now, I still don’t quite know what has changed. Except maybe that I am older, and the novelty of it all has worn off. Or maybe it is because I spend my days worrying about potty training, math homework, and cleaning the house. There isn’t much time left to think about sex toys, erotic playing cards (??) and massage oils. And to be honest, if I am going to spend money on something these days, I’d rather spend it on a new furnace, since ours is dying a slow death. Aww yeah…now THAT’S hot.

This momfession was inspired by a note from mommy friend and fellow blogger Laurel. It’s about chocolate, so listen up.

I have been trying to eat well lately. For the last few months, I have been doing an acceptable job of restricting my sugar intake. I switched my afternoon cookie-and-latte run to a plain-yogurt-and-kashi love-in. I traded my nightly ice cream or raw cookie dough fix for rice cakes and goldfish crackers. I even managed to stay away from the box of Oreos that my husband bought and then forgot about (how does one FORGET about Oreos??!).

But Easter….that was a doozy. While playing the Easter Bunny I ended up eating half of the bag of jellybeans (oh, the kids don’t really like those…I told myself). On our way home from dinner, our two-year-old got a hold of a bag of Reese’s Pieces and gnawed through the bag, crushing the candies inside. So, I decided that they were ruined and ate every last one of them (even the soggy ones). I’ve been snatching chocolates out of my son’s basket every time I walk by (even though the basket is on the highest shelf in the living room and there isn’t really any reason for me to walk through that room to begin with).

So, yeah, you could say my no sugar diet is blown. But what’s worse is that I am a total hypocrite. While I am secretly chowing down on their candy, I am simultaneously trying to explain to the kids why it is inappropriate to eat candy every day. “No, you can’t have candy in your lunch!” I exclaimed last week. “Candy isn’t healthy…it will make your teeth fall out!” I told my preschooler (to which she asked, “then tooth fairy will come?”. Smart kid.). “No, for the millionth time, dessert doesn’t have to be candy! Here, why don’t you have some delicious fruit? It’s like the candy of the earth!” (OK I didn’t use that last line but that would have been a good one).

I’m pretty sure I have never met someone whose teeth had fallen out due to candy. And if I ask my mom, she’ll tell me that my childhood was full of sugar (I do recall drinking a lot of Kool-Aid). So maybe it isn’t all that bad for my kids. Perhaps promoting good nutritional habits isn’t the only reason why I don’t want them eating all of that candy. Perhaps it has a little bit to do with my fear that there will be none left for me, and I’ll have to go back to eating bran flakes…

Toys strewn across the room. Smashed pieces of bread in the carpet. TV blaring what seems to be an endless loop of Dora the Explorer. The refrigerator door half-open, and a small, red-faced toddler laying in front of it screaming and writhing on the floor. This is my battle ground. I am winning so far (I think, although it is hard to be sure). She wanted cookies. I firmly said, “No, It is time for dinner.” She wanted water; no, NOT in a sippy cup, no…not the Cars cup…noooo… mommy I want milk! Now her milk sits, waiting for her on the dinner table. She didn`t want to sit in her usual seat, not with the high chair tray on (I mean, really mom!)..but when I attempted to place her in the now tray-less seat, she screamed and exclaimed, “I hate my seat” (and I discovered that she knows the word “hate”).

Life with a strong-willed two-year-old is pretty much hell on earth sometimes. It is like living in a war zone; never knowing when the next attack will come and what will incite it. Any parent of a preschooler has their own arsenal of techniques that they use to get them through the daily battles: from feigning deafness (“What? I can’t hear you when you are screaming!” is one that I use often), to Supernanny tactics (although my kid couldn’t care less if she had to sit in the “naughty corner”), to outright ignoring (hmmm..where’s Kailyn? Oh well I guess I will eat her dinner..). But I’ve got a weapon that I pull out in only the most intense situations: hysterical laughter.

It isn’t really my choice as much as it is a reaction. I think I just get so overwhelmed that I need to either cry, scream or laugh and I usually end up breaking out into peals of uncontrollable laughter when my daughter is at her worst. It usually just makes her angrier (and I suppose I would feel the same way if someone laughed in my face when I got upset), but every once in a while it is exactly what we both need.

The other night, as our dinner battle ensued, it happened. I burst out laughing as she began her high-pitched screaming routine. And instead of commencing tantrum phase two (falling to the floor and rolling around under the table), she stopped, and burst out laughing too. Soon, we were all laughing hysterically, and the moment had passed.

So yeah, I momfess…I laugh at my kid when she’s upset. It might not be the most appropriate response to seeing my child in anguish, but if it helps me to keep even an ounce of sanity, I’m going to stick with it. Anyway, all’s fair in love and war…right?