It’s official. I recently came to the realization. If you are Facebook friends with me, you already know. And you’ve known probably longer than I have. That I have become that mom. The one I may have silently vowed to never be.
I am that mom. That mom who posts picture after picture of my kids. Not because I don’t have anything else in my life. But because I think I think every picture of my kids is priceless. And who has decided pictures of just about anyone’s kids are priceless. Pictures of my kids doing things that to you, might mean nothing. That to you, might seem mundane. But to me, those moments are my life. And their lives. And are my every day right now.
I am that mom. That mom who posts picture after picture of my kids. Not because I don’t have anything else in my life. But because I think I think every picture of my kids is priceless. And who has decided pictures of just about anyone’s kids are priceless. Pictures of my kids doing things that to you, might mean nothing. That to you, might seem mundane. But to me, those moments are my life. And their lives. And are my every day right now.
I am that mom. The mom who quotes my kids in my Facebook status. Because I think that most of the things they have to say are more fascinating or funny or thought-provoking than most of the thoughts I have. Not because I don’t have a voice of my own, but because I genuinely enjoy theirs.
I am that mom who doesn’t have all the answers. And secretly wonders if you do. Because you make it all look so easy. And sometimes, so perfectly ideal.
I am that mom who has four hot wheels in my purse alongside boogie wipes, a stray diaper, fruit snacks, two little people and a sticky hand from the hair cutting place. Because to me, those are some of the essential tools to perform the duties of my job. And honestly, it’s just easier than not having all of that at the ready.
I am that mom. The one who vacillates between feeling like I want to teach my kids a lesson in every teachable moment and just wanting my kids to be kids while they’re kids. And never knowing if I’m finding the right balance. And worrying about that balance more than I worry about my clothes or my hair. Or my sanity.
I am that mom. The one who stinks at organization. And has toys in every room of my house. And who feels a twinge of guilt admitting, “I’d love it if there was less of their stuff in my space”. So I just keep buying baskets. And keep moving those baskets around. And even though I know I am supposed to embrace this part of their existence, their messiness and their stuff, I am that mom who still finds it, at times, annoying.
I am that mom. Who has chosen to share every detail. Of motherhood. Of being a crazy lunatic. Of being me. On a blog. For the world to see. Because it makes me feel full to empty my brain. And to collect my feelings. All in one place. And to feel a sense of community and friendship and cameraderie with others who are living it. Have lived it. Or will live it.
I am that mom. The one who believes my kids are special. And that your kids are special. Even though, apparently, we’re not supposed to say that to them anymore. And that they’re smart. Even though we’re not supposed to build their confidence too much. And that they are really great at drawing stick people. Because it’s what they know how to do. But I also believe that they do things wrong. Which I tell them… But I think that’s not recommended either. And that sometimes they disappoint me. Which, apparently, we’re not supposed to tell them these days. I am the mom wondering what exactly is okay to say to your kids. That won’t royally screw them up for life. And will let them know that even when I don’t like their behavior, I still love them.
I am that mom who takes my kids to Target in their pajamas. Because I figure they’re clothed. And happy. And clothed and happy is sometimes worth the judgmental looks from strangers.
I am that mom. The one who doesn’t have a career outside the home with regularity. And is somewhat shocked by this. Because I always thought I always would. And I really like work. And it makes me feel more complete. But I just can’t figure out how you other moms do it all. Because I’m that mom who can’t. Do it all.
I am that mom who talks to my kids about God. And their own faith. And gratitude. And acceptance. And wants them to know that there are things much bigger than them. And hopes that they will find something that fits them and their own beliefs as they grow.
I am that mom who adores my husband. And will tell anyone who will listen just how wonderful he is. Because he is. And just how lucky I am. Because it’s true. And that I think he’s just about the best dad I know, outside of my own. Because I think he deserves the credit. Not because I think others aren’t great. But because I think he is.
I am that mom. The one who yells at my kids. And sometimes grabs them by the arm. Or puts them in calm down time. Because sometimes I need calm down time, too. And sometimes after I’ve yelled. Or after I’ve grabbed. I say, I’m sorry. Because I’m that mom who is still learning and growing, just like they are. And other times, I yell at them again, two minutes later.
I am that mom. The one who is relentless with my kids about their manners. Who is constantly repeating, “how do you ask?”. Because I truly believe that manners and kindness will make them better people. And will help them practice gratitude, in every day.
I am that mom. The one who is relentless with my kids about their manners. Who is constantly repeating, “how do you ask?”. Because I truly believe that manners and kindness will make them better people. And will help them practice gratitude, in every day.
I am that mom. The one I never thought I’d be. Who really thinks I might be happier, more content, than I’ve ever been before, since becoming that mom. Who thinks that my children are such rock stars. And even that parenting might ACTUALLY be rewarding. And who has days where I could wax poetic about the beauty of it, all day long… and if you read my thoughts, than you know, there are days where I do.
And someday, when I look back on it all and I see this mom, I may not recognize her. I may think she had no clue. Or that she got it all wrong. Or that she lost who she’d been to become that mom. Or I might just think, wow, she was on to something. And want to give her a hug.
For this place in my life… This place with three little boys… I have decided to embrace being that mom. The mom to these children who I love to very depths of every bit of myself. I have decided to wear my mom-ness proudly. To get over what someone else might think about the way I’ve navigated motherhood. And to chance being obnoxious, annoying or otherwise, in regards to how I feel about being a mom to my children. Because I think they are their own type of perfect. Because it’s where I am, who I am, right now.
That’s the mom I am. The mom I’m being. For now. And I’m sure, over time, I will change even more.
What mom, or dad, are you? Have you, too, become that one?
What mom, or dad, are you? Have you, too, become that one?