One of the best things about motherhood (besides my own wonderful children, of course) is the instant connection I now have with other women.
What I mean is, I am quiet. I have never had a giant pool of friends to manage because the thought of that is honestly overwhelming to me. But everybody needs people. When you are trying to raise people, you need a whole lot of people.
I’m so happy that I have managed to connect with so many people who are the same kind of overwhelmed, goofy, disorganized, try-to-hard, full-hearted perfectionists that I am.
Tomorrow we register my son for kindergarten for next school year. I’m not gonna lie; I’m kind of terrified. This is the first step in Cam going out into the world without me. It also means I’m out of baby stage and into something else entirely.
You know how everyone tells you that kids grow up fast? It’s because kids grow up fast! Cameron was just a tiny baby five minutes ago! I feel like 5 more minutes will pass and he’ll be 30.
My children changed me, and it has been absolutely for the better.
When I got home from the hospital after giving birth to my son, i cried and cried. I was so terrified. So hormonal. So bad at breastfeeding.
Everything got strange. This tiny person was unavoidably here all the time. Nothing that I’d done before worked the same way that it did after I had my babies. I was forced to change, and for a long time, changing hurt.
To make it in this strange, sleep-deprived land, i had to give up what was comfortable and familiar. I changed the way I kept house, the way I viewed my work life, and finally the way I viewed myself.
What would I be without my children? How would I know that I can learn to do almost anything? That practice can be hard and frustrating but so necessary? That i don’t owe anyone an explanation? That my words are strong enough to stand by themselves?
I am so happy that I’ve been able to go on this incredible ride. I’m so happy for the opportunity to get to know them and to get to know me.
I am extremely wary about who I take parenting advice from. Especially the unsolicited kind.
Is your advice from a good place? Do you genuinely want to help? Or do you want to soothe your own ego by making yourself feel wise and powerful?
Are you right here doing the dirty work with me? Have you been up at two in the morning with one or more of my children? Are you gonna help me drag this tantruming kid out of this store?
If so, congrats; you are welcomed into my inner advice-giving sanctum. But otherwise? Please understand that the whole time you are talking, I’m probably just nodding and smiling.
Today I ran errands, picked up my stepson from school, did laundry, took a work-related phone call, baked a cake, kept the house clean and attended to various parenting responsibilities. Does this count as ‘having it all?’ Because ‘it’ kind of sucks.
Maybe tomorrow I only have a little of ‘it.’ And maybe ‘it’ could involve a back rub and a glass of wine. That would be awesome.
My mother, a former teacher who can’t stop teaching, gave me a set of those alphabet strips designed to stretch around a classroom. I held on to them for a few weeks because I couldn’t figure out what I wanted to do with them. She suggested cutting them up to make cards, but I already have alphabet cards.
I decided to put them up inside of this closet door in our living room. I can open the door for our lesson, then close them away so the house doesn’t look like a kindergarten classroom.