A Message to the Momhood

Once upon a time, my house was organized and free of pet hair. The kids were lined up around the kitchen table, working with enthusiasm and joy on a science experiment. The house smelled like fresh linens and lilacs. The sound of birds at the backyard bird feeder could be heard through the slightly opened windows, and a welcome spring breeze wafted in.

WAIT.

This never happened. My kids did do science experiments. I do have a kitchen table and there is a bird feeder in the back yard. Spring inevitably rolls around each year.

Yep, that’s it. The resemblance to real life ends right about there. I must have been daydreaming and it filtered into my writing.

This is an ode to all you moms out there. Stay at home moms, homeschooling moms, work outside of the home moms, I-don’t-know where-your-soccer-uniform-is moms, and why-is-the-kitchen-floor-wet moms, I salute you.

There is no perfection in the momhood. Where we live. Post office box I love-my-kids-but-I-think-I’m-going-a-little-crazy-right-now, Everywhere, The World. Amen and the end.

We might daydream a little utopia now and then, but I guarantee a blood curdling scream or the sound of the cat throwing up on the den carpet brings us right back to reality.

I know you’re out there, doing all the things, signing all the permission slips, reading all the bedtime stories, cleaning up all the mystery stains, avoiding the mirror because you haven’t combed your hair or brushed your teeth yet today…I see you.

Not really, because that would be weird. But I see you in my mind’s eye. I have been there, I have done the things, I lived to tell about it, and I want to reassure you that you will, too.

My kids are grown now, the oldest is married and in his own home. Our daughters are grown, and one of them is restless to get out, to spread her wings, and create her own little nest. (She was born ready to run her own household. I smile sweetly at her dream of utopia.)

I sleep through the night now. I only have laundry for my husband and me. I don’t have to meal plan extensively or cut up food so no one chokes to death. You would think my house would look better, but I think I’ve awarded myself an overdue vacation or I’m living in a fantasy where I believe a housekeeping fairy is going to fly by my house one day and decide to live there and clean things while I sleep. (Like the shoemaker’s little elves, remember?)

“The days are long but the years are short.” Gretchen Rubin

There is a great quote that says, “The days are long, but the years are short.” I know a million people have already told you to enjoy it, they grow up so fast, time just flies, and all the other variations. Sometimes that advice makes us a little sad or guilt-ridden: Enjoy it or else. You’ll be sorry when they leave home.

We do enjoy our children. I was a stay at home mom, and I remember calling a friend and admitting, tearfully, that I LOVED being home with my kids but I was feeling like I REALLY needed to get out of the house for 3 minutes…or 3 weeks. I was lucky, because this lady was older and wiser, with grown children of her own, and she said to me, “You are completely normal, and you’re a great mom.”

So, now that I’m the lady with the grown children, I just want to get this message out there:

Hey, mom! Yes, you! The one covered in baby oatmeal, tired, avoiding a mirror. The one wondering if you need to get out of the house. The one wondering if you spend too much time out of the house. The one with the teenager with an attitude. The one who considered running away, at least for an hour, but you can’t tell anyone that. The one whose son just embarrassed her at the grocery store. The one whose daughter just threw a tantrum in front of a crowd and you gave her that look while trying to remain composed…

You’re completely normal, and you’re a great mom.

You’re winning, I promise.

You’re doing the important things. Keep that in mind in between the Legos and the laundry and the lost pacifier. Love your children, nurture them, and discipline them; be their example of unconditional love and be their stern teacher of consequences. Your job doesn’t come with instant gratification, for the most part, but trust me, one day, you’ll be the one reassuring another mom with “It’s worth it.”

You’re going to lose some sleep. A lot of sleep. You’re going to cry. Your hair and nails are going to take a hit. Some lady at the grocery store is going to judge hard because she’s never had children but she thinks she knows how to raise a herd of them.

But you’re a warrior from the momhood. You wipe up bodily fluids without flinching. You know the difference between a scream that means someone just fell off the roof and a scream that means someone’s brother just pulled the head off of her Barbie to annoy her. You can dress a two year boy while feeding the dog and stabbing one of those stupid little straws in a juice box. Not much fazes you. People see you crying at the Hallmark movies and think you’re soft. They don’t know what you’re made of.

They don’t know what you’re capable of.

Sometimes maybe you don’t either.

I’m here to remind you.

You’re made of the stuff that can dry a baby’s tears on sight, translate a toddler’s language, diffuse a tantrum, hide vegetables in the spaghetti, calm a catastrophic preteen meltdown, juggle a schedule that would make a CEO weak in the knees…you’re made of the stuff that changes the next generation…and that changes the world.

Take heart.

All the days are good. They are long, but they are good. Sometimes they feel like a train wreck in the moment, but I assure you, they are more perfect than you realize. It’s a sticky, chaotic, exhausting kind of perfect, not the kind we often call flawless, even when we should.

Tearful days get lost in the memories of the beautiful days in years to come. Frustrating days when the baby won’t take a nap aren’t as vivid in your memory when you look back at the photos of that sweet little face. Some of the things that seemed so frustrating are the things you laugh about in days to come. That little boy in the grocery store? He was mine. He grew up to be responsible and good and kind and incredibly calm.

Because I am a warrior from the momhood, just like you. I can encourage you because I’ve been there, and I know your kids are going to turn out just fine.

The reason I know this is, you aren’t giving up. You might cry, you might want to hide, you might be so frustrated you have to scream into a pillow, but you’re in this to win this. Because those babies are your babies, and you’re pouring your whole heart into them.

As a mother of grown children, I look back and see that all the years are good. The days are long when your littles are little. The years are short when you look back and wonder where they went. But there is joy in watching a teenager embrace her purpose and passions just like there is joy in watching a toddler take her first steps. There is joy in seeing your son look at his wife with adoration in his eyes, and watching them laugh at each other’s jokes. Babies are a joy, and so are your adult children.

The years are short, with all their many different stages of life, and while each stage holds its own challenges, it also possesses a lot of beauty. Take a moment every day to remind yourself of the beautiful parts. Laugh at the messy parts. Give yourself grace because you aren’t going to get everything right all the time.

And, remember, you’re completely normal, and you’re a great mom.