“Motherhood is love at first sight. It’s not having any stylish clothes for yourself, but owning the entire latest line from Gymboree. It is more difficult than the bar exam. It’s more rewarding than a big fat paycheck. It’s as much fun as college, just in a different way. It’s Lullabies instead of Ludacris. It is understanding the plight of the dairy cow. It is noticing that you have a little poop on your shirt and contemplating whether it’s enough to warrant a change of clothes or just wipe it off as best you can and keep moving. Every tear breaks your heart. Every smile brings an overwhelming joy. It’s thinking that driving a minivan (gasp!) would really not be that bad. It is learning to eat one handed. It is believing in miracles more than ever before. It’s loving your husband more. It is loving your dog a little less. It is constant worry. And lots of laughter. It is a gift from God and an immense responsibility. I’m so proud to be Caroline’s mama and I’m so happy to be celebrating my very first Mother’s Day!”
I can’t take credit for this wonderful explanation of motherhood. My friend Carly wrote the above and posted it on her Facebook page this morning and it struck a chord with me because it’s 100% true..
(Carly has a blog but never updates it and she really should because she’s a great writer and a smart woman and she has a beautiful daughter and the rest of the universe needs to see more of Caroline’s chunky legs, please!)
Being a mother is sacrificing yourself for the needs of your child (sleep, fashion, pedicures, sleep). It’s kissing boo-boos and wiping noses. It’s getting up multiple times a night to help your child get back to sleep, even though it means you’ll drink a full pot of coffee the next day and still be a zombie.
It’s going to change a diaper at 3am and realizing that this one is so bad it’s going to require a bath and a sheet change. At 3am. So you call in the reinforcements.
It’s picking up your son and having him put his head on your shoulder and then smack on your chest because he likes the way it sounds. Even though the little baby hand pounding on the thin skin over your chest really hurts.
It’s having him run up to you and bring you the dog bone hoping you’ll give him the TV remote in exchange. Even though he should have neither in his possession.
It’s being screamed at by your Tiny Terrorist because he wants something and doesn’t have the words to communicate those wants to you and it’s being reduced to tears because you have no idea what the Tiny Terrorist flailing around on your living room rug wants.
But it’s also reveling in the joy of your child’s laughter and the sight of a smile that lights up the whole world. It’s watching him walk up and down the driveway, stopping to look up and point at the trees while on his “hike.” It’s watching him figure out how things work and occasionally helping him figure out those things. It’s seeing how much he loves to read and being so incredibly happy for that. It’s attempting to see the world through his eyes, wondering why the shoebox is so amazing.
It’s frustrating at times, and it’s certainly been full of tears on my part (and his).
This is the hardest job I’ve ever done.
But it’s also the most rewarding.
It pays in baby kisses and snuggles and spit-up and drool stains and sleepless nights.
I know that I’m one of the lucky ones.
Thank you for being my son. Thank you for being a light for me at the end of my really long days. Thank you for smiling and loving me despite the fact that I don’t always love myself. Thank you for your laughter and baby kisses. I hope that one day you will understand how much I love you, because I’m afraid that I don’t always show it. You are my first most precious gift from God and I am so thankful that He entrusted you to me.
Love now and forever,