Motherhood

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It’s nearly 2 a.m. and here I am blogging from the cargo space of my SUV. No really, I am.

I had this donation fund started on GoFundMe (awesome website for fundraising) to raise money to purchase a new vehicle. Something to call my own; I haven’t been in my own vehicle since 2005. Going through nearly nine months of cancer treatment made sharing a vehicle exhausting. Depending upon other people for transport became a frustration more then anything.

It’s taken over a month to get paperwork, registration and everything else in order. But this past Friday, mama’s new four-wheeled baby came home!

My son fell in love with our vehicle. So much so, that he convinced me we should camp out in the back of the SUV and watch a movie on my Mac. So now it’s nearly 2 a.m. and here I am blogging from the back of my vehicle.

Once you take out the car seat and stroller, move the privacy screen, move the seats down, open the moon roof and throw about four blankets down; it’s pretty darn comfy. Plus two, three, four…possibly five pillows and you’ve got yourself two snoring children and a rather comfy “Mommy blogger.”

Just finished watching “Mom’s Night Out” for the second time. First time all the way through, though, without having to tend to laundry or dishes or being distracted by the “Mom isn’t giving me full attention so I better do something to get it back” behavior of my children.

Motherhood is this crazy whirlwind of beautiful heartwarming moments, chaos, frustration, joy, bliss, happiness, did I mention chaos?  But those moments when you end up Hulking it out from your toddler’s temper tantrum or your eight-year-old’s incessant desire to negotiate everything from bedtime to what your daily activities will be…it’s all so worth it.

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There’s one particular scene from “Mom’s Night Out” (don’t worry, no spoiler alert needed here) where the main character (Alyson) is at a bowling alley with her husband and children. Aly’s daughter places her hands on her face, looks her in the eyes and says something to the effect of “I love you most of all.”

Being the over-emotional basket case I am when it comes to my kids (total helicopter parent, I’ve gotten somewhat better but let’s just say that I’m all about the “attachment method” of parenting…before I ever knew what that meant) I teared up at the scene.

My daughter does that all that time when she speaks to me. Every single time she places those little hands on my face and tells me how much she loves me–joy fills my spirit, my heart melts and I remember just how trivial those moments of insanity are compared to the moments of rapture.

Motherhood is not all rainbows and butterflies and unicorns. Sorry, but any woman who tells you that motherhood isn’t the least bit stressful, that her life is blissfully perfect and her child/children never push her buttons–either has a nanny or is a damn good liar. Sorry to call bullshit on that one but it’s the truth.

Being a parent is ten ties more amazing than it is difficult. It’s a learning experience for both parent and child. My son has told me (numerous times) how mean I am for making him play outside instead of letting him play video games all day. He’s also written me random notes; “You’re the best mom in the Universe” or “You totally rock!” He’s given me hugs out of the blue and come up to me to smother me in kisses. You learn early that it’s a constant balanjng act.

We (mothers) are all doing the best we can with what we’re given. Single moms, housewives, stay-at-home moms, moms of multiples and moms with an only child, adoptive moms, inseminated moms. We are all mothers one way or another, handed different circumstances in life. Parenting as best we can. United by the common bond of motherhood. United by all of the crazy disasters and loving moments filling our daily lives.

The point is not to beat yourself up when you screw up. Because guess what? We all make mistakes. It’s part of being human. Like it or not, you will screw up at some point or another. Don’t waste time comparing yourself to Miss Susie Homemaker who looks like she’s got her shit together; kids are always behaved, clothes perfectly pressed, that mom who bakes designer cupcakes for PTO functions.

I’m sure as soon as she gets home the kids are running around like miniature marathon athletes. Picassos are painted on living room walls, furniture becomes a jungle gym, the house is filled with boisterous noise-makers–all wanting to get their way.

The conclusion? The only person you should be trying to better than is the person you were yesterday. That’s all that matters in the grand scheme of things.

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My kids are 8 and 3 and they both still sleep in my bed. Sometimes my son stretches the five-second-rule to ten seconds, my daughter isn’t fully potty trained at 3 (even though my son was at 2), they go to bed late some nights and take joy in destroying the wallpaper in my mother’s kitchen.  I embarrass my son with intentional, ridiculously awkward dancing in front of his friends.

But you know what? They always have healthy food to eat, a roof over their head, warm beds to sleep in (usually mine) and are fully aware of the unconditional love I have for them both. Both are physically thriving and intellectually advanced for their ages.

My kids drive me nuts sometimes. But I am grateful for every moment. For every tantrum, every melt-down, every “You’re the bestest Mommy ever!” and “I’m going to keep you forever” they tell me. I’m grateful for Crayola masterpieces drawn on living room walls, tea parties, messy bedrooms and a sink full of dishes.

These babes of mine are the spice and variety of my life. Every day is a new adventure (sometimes exhausting) but always always interesting. They’ve taught me to be young at heart, how important it is to be able to laugh at myself. Oh and to know the location of every bathroom at every store or restaurant we frequent.

My life is chaotic and constantly in a state of movement. But it’s a beautiful kind of chaos, I wouldn’t have it any other way.

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