Motherhood

I had ideas about what it means to be a mother. I knew that this was going to be my very own precious baby that I would love and would get to cuddle, play with, teach and watch grow. I knew being a mom wouldn't be easy. I knew that it was going to be a lot of cleaning and sleepless nights and few breaks to relax. I knew this would mean less of a social life, but I was fine with that. I was so excited. I read as many books and articles and emails on pregnancy, motherhood, and babies as I could possibly absorb. I wanted to be prepared. But nothing I read could have prepared me for how hard it is to be a stay-at-home mom.

There is a lot of pressure on moms these days. With social media, we are constantly seeing happy, beautiful moms with their kids. They always look nice and their kids are clean and dressed well. They always seem to have everything under control and they get so many things accomplished. I imagined myself baking cookies and cupcakes, doing crafts, teaching them the alphabet, going to the park, but I don't do half of that crap. I'm lucky to get my hair brushed and some days I don't change out of my pajamas at all. The house is usually a mess with toys and baby gear everywhere. I always seem to have something spilled on me. I'm a mess.

I only have two tiny humans to look after, but I'm always busy. Whether it's fixing food, changing diapers, kissing boo boos, cleaning, giving baths, or simply answering the many, many questions that my very curious 3-year-old has, I'm always doing something and there's so much NOISE. Cartoons, screaming, crying, whining, singing. I can't go to the bathroom alone or without someone calling me from outside the door. My 9-month-old is starting to pull up on the furniture, so I have to supervise so she doesn't fall and get hurt, but how can I supervise the baby when the 3-year-old is flushing toys down the toilet? Sometimes there is just so much going on. The baby won't be still for me to change her diaper. She doesn't want to sit in the high chair, but still wants to eat. The house is a disaster and the phone is ringing and I'm not cooking fast enough and I was supposed to pay bills and go get groceries and I just feel like pulling my hair out.

I give my mom credit. I was wild as a kid and she didn't lose her temper with me; she was always so patient. I don't know how she did it. Don't get me wrong, I love them to pieces and I'm so happy to have them. I'm thankful that I was able to have healthy children. I know there are a lot of people that want that and can't have it and my heart hurts for them.

At the end of the day when they FINALLY go to sleep, I go in their room and stare at their chubby little sleeping faces, admire what my husband and I created, and I think about how much I love them and I miss them being awake. (A little bit.) That's motherhood.