Babies are crazy.
Why can I love someone so much and be so completely frustrated by them?
Why can I wish to be alone and then the moment they leave want them back immediately?
Why are bowel movements at the top of my priority list?
These are the things I scream at myself when I’m trying to pee alone.
Being a mom is the greatest. But it’s so easy to complain. Because, let’s be honest, getting pooped on after you’ve had your first shower in 3 days is ridiculous by any standard. It’s so easy to talk about the horrific things that happen. And things get horrific, daily.
But sometimes I remember why this motherhood thing is so amazing.
Like when your toddler is the only one who thinks your jokes are funny. Or when he says “I love mommy” for the first time. Or that feeling of holding a newborn and knowing they’re completely dependent on you. It feels so big. So weighty. And so
But also, there’s so much pressure.
I don’t know about you, but my mom is awesome. I have so many great childhood memories and sometimes I feel like I can’t give my kids what I had as a child. My mom didn’t put this pressure on me. I put it on myself when I’m having a bad day. You know the kind of day I’m talking about. Everyone is cranky, my toddler somehow forgot that he’s expected to do things like walk or eat (unless he sees a piece of chocolate), and I have to make up things to do so I can justify loading up the car and getting out of this pit of a house that I don’t want to clean.
Then there are the social media moms that have it all together and plan activities like “sensory tables” while their children eat carrot sticks and sing hymns. Don’t get me wrong, I think all those things are wonderful and my goal is to have well-behaved, Jesus-loving, vegetable-eating children. But when we’re having one of those difficult days, that feels like pressure.
Again, the pressure comes from an idea in my own mind of how things should be. Those moms have bad days too. Why do I feel bad about myself when they share their happy moments? It should be encouraging. Should.
My mom gave me some advice when I was venting my frustration to her. She told me to accomplish one thing a day. Whether it’s taking the kids to the park or simply folding the laundry I’ve been neglecting (or covering Daniel’s shift at the Coffee Barn so he can have alone time with the babies, because it feels SO nice to get out of the house). One thing. It sounds easy but some days it feels like a huge accomplishment. And it is big! Because as a mom, I didn’t just do one thing. I did one thing on top of all the necessary daily tasks that are involved in keeping little humans fed, clothed, clean(ish), and alive.
If you can relate, I hope this is an encouragement to you. And If you have a particularly horrifying mom story PLEASE share. Is it wrong that I love those kinds of stories? It makes me feel normal. And if that’s twisted I really don’t care. Excuse me while I go snuggle my babies.