I have a confession to make today. For months now, I’ve been
sleeping with a Mexican and a monkey. It’s
true, and I wish this were about to unfold as some tawdry, bizarre tale. However, the truth is that I’ve allowed
myself to become one of those mothers who allows her toddler to sleep in bed
with mom and dad whenever she’s crabby or crying. This is, of course, every god-damn
night. As my toddler is currently a
highly fervent Dora the Explorer fanatic, her Dora and Boots dolls have also
managed to take up space in our queen size bed, ensuring that I know longer get
spooned by my spouse (a very sad actuality).
Although I have increasingly grown to hate nights waking up
with a damn Dora doll wedged under my back, I must admit that I am immensely
thankful for that little explorer gal. I
would like to see Dora get some well-fitting clothing sometime soon so that midriff
of hers isn’t always exposed, but other than this, she teaches many valuable
lessons to my admiring toddler daughter.
At just over two years old, Emily uses Spanish words for colors and
numbers on a regular basis. I, myself,
have actually learned more Spanish from hours of viewing Dora with my daughter
than I ever did in high school. My
teacher at the time, a morbidly obese woman who did know the language quite
well herself, just didn’t have the patience for all of us incompetent students and
would thus often declare, “Stop asking questions! How can you not get this? You
guys are so dumb! We’re moving on!”
Unlike my high school foreign language teacher, Dora is patient
and encouraging. She also has many other
great traits. She is brave and
intelligent. She’s a loyal friend and
she never, ever gives up. Beyond all these qualities, though, Dora’s best
attribute is undeniably her ability to transfix my daughter and possess her
absolute attention, not veering away from the television screen for even a
second. Without this attribute, shit
would not get done around this house.
Dora the Explorer allows me to do the laundry, wash the dishes, clean
the floors, scrub the toilets, and dust the house (although dusting remains a
rare occurrence as it’s my most despised chore). If not for Dora, Boots, Isa, and that hunky
Benny the Bull, we may be living in filth.
I have loved Dora for her ability to allow me to still
accomplish household tasks while raising two children under age two and
working. Yet it was my husband who
proudly pointed out two evenings ago, when we managed to sneak away for some
mommy and daddy time while the youngest napped and Emily sat transfixed to the
television, a new reason to thank that young explorer. While lying in bed together,
wrapped up in one another’s arms, he asked, “Did you hear that?” I smiled, satisfied, and asked him what sound
he was referencing. “Lo Hicimos! We did
it! Did you hear it? Dora’s over. The show had just started when we came to the
bedroom. Damn! We’re getting good at
this. We managed foreplay, sex, and
cuddling all within the span of one Dora episode!” He beamed at this accomplishment and I got up
to get dressed and return to our daughter.
I’ve said this before, a true cliché of parenthood, but I’ll
say it again: children change everything.
Never, ever, in my life would I have imagined feeling a sense of
accomplishment for fitting in foreplay, intercourse, and snuggling all within
the span of a child’s cartoon. Life has
changed indeed, but I love these children so damn much, and I wouldn’t change
things back in a million years or for a million dollars. I thank heaven for these children, and am just
as grateful for Dora the Explorer. Lo Hicimos! We did it, Dora! The house is
clean and mommy’s getting laid. Thank
your little monkey friend, too, but maybe you two can stop coming to bed with
me.
