Growing into Motherhood
At what
age does one actually grow up? I think it is somewhere
between the fact you might enjoy talking to your parents
(well occasionally) and the fact that you would rather
watch Dateline than MTV. And then you actually discuss the
Dateline in your social circle, then you might be
considered a grown-up. I don't feel like a grown up
really. I feel like I am a kid with adult
responsibilities. I know that throughout the course of my
life I have definitely learned more then most 30 year olds
have learned about life. Or at least the College Coeds
that still think that life without Frat parties is not
worth living. Growing up occurs somewhere between fogged
windows in a little bitty car some Friday night and to
trying to schedule in alone time with your hubby. Or maybe
it is somewhere between Pizza for breakfast and having
time to actually eat breakfast. Somewhere between steamy
moments together with your hubby and getting a full
uninterrupted ten minute shower and get out with actually
having had time to shave your legs.
I
thought I felt like a kid still until I was in line at a
concert behind some teenagers and realized the mountainous
gap between their belly glitter and low-waisted pants and
my watermelon sized nursing-bras and spit up stains as a
fashion statement. The miles between the gap get larger.
Gone are the days of talking on the phone for three hours
about boys, clothes and how you hate your math teacher.
Gone are the days that I am proud about my bra size and
the numbers on the bathroom scale. Somewhere in between
proms and pregnancy I grew up. I am no longer worried
about homework and if so-and-so likes me, or if I should
ask him out. Now I am wondering if babies wake up wide
awake at 3:00 purposely just to see you with your bags
under your eyes and your perpetual bed head. Or if my
three year old actually thought before he pooped in his
Rugrat undies in the first 5 minutes that I arrived at the
grocery store.
When
I was about seven I used to pray to God for a baby. I
wanted one so bad, it just seemed like I could take care
of a Cabbage Patch, so why wouldn't God let me take care
of a real baby? But I am sure happy God let me have a real
baby of my own, or two. He blessed me with two beautiful
boys, much better than some doll with Xavier Roberts
written on her behind. I am now feeling more “grown up” as
I see my baby and realize that his entire well being and
happiness depends on me. He can't even tell me he is
hungry, such a little helpless, adorable child living his
life at my speed of life, or at least attempting to. Most
of his entire life depends on me and my ability to
function with 4 hours of sleep.
It
is not like I have learned so much that I feel like I need
to write a book about all of my theories and realizations
but that I would like to write about it in attempt to save
others from making the ridiculous mistakes I might have
and will continue to make in my journey through this
wonderful thing called Mommy. I would like to enlighten
other parents and let them know they are not the only ones
who have picked up a cookie off the ground and looked
around, then dusted it off and fed it back to the cranky
child in the shopping cart. (Or maybe I am the only one
who is desperate enough to do that! God made dirt, dirt
don't hurt right?)
Motherhood sure does put life
into a whole new light. I don't care so much any more that
I have the name brand clothes that every one is wearing or
maybe or that everyone else's kids are wearing. I just
have a hard enough time putting clean clothes on in the
morning and making sure my kid puts his underwear on.
NEW!
Sale $5.95
This
bedtime storybook with pictures is sure to delight every child having any
difficulty with going to sleep.
