As a little girl when I still named all of my dolls Alexandria and Lily, I had this picture of what motherhood would look like.
Decades of sitcoms and romantic comedies solidified that idyllic picture in my head — I would always wear a cute little apron, there would be lots of singing and dancing, my children would rarely cry, I’d always have a giant smile on my face and things would always work out.
I don’t know about you, but my world of motherhood is far from this Hallmark card fantasy.
It’s loud; it’s messy and sometimes it just plain sucks.
But it’s also so wonderful, amazing and awesome that it just doesn’t seem like it is my world.
This is what motherhood (for me at least) really looks like:
Eating far from hot meals or half-eaten toddler meals.
You plan a full list activities to do during nap time but end up willing yourself to drag your exhausted butt up off the couch.
A solo trip to the grocery store is about as good as a vacation.
You want so badly to be able to take on all the pain and the hurt in little one’s world and the fact that you can’t hurts more than anything.
You tiptoe into their rooms to be sure they are still breathing, and have to force yourself not to pick them up snuggle. But then you pray that the door shutting on the way out doesn’t wake them.
You vacuum EVERY day and still feel like the cracker crumbs, tiny scraps of paper and inexplicable fuzz never goes away.
The first 15 minutes after nap and bedtime begin are spent putting the same Legos, puzzle pieces and trucks away.
You have the words to his five favorite books memorized and don’t even need them to tell the story.
Your feelings have been hurt by a knee-high human who haven’t even mastered basic skills like snapping their fingers or skipping.
You find yourself getting into the most recent adventures of Mickey or Muno or Manny even after your munchkin has lost interest or even gone to bed.
You’ve cried pulling out of your driveway on your way to work as your toddler desperately bangs on the screen door begging you to stay.
Instead of going straight for the shoes at any department store you don’t even slow down by the sale racks and peruse only kids clothes and toys.
You find cantaloup in your hair and spaghetti sauce on the shoulder of your new shirt and don’t think twice about it.
You’ve put off buying things for yourself you wouldn’t have thought twice about pre-kids so you child could have the new Thomas the Train Engine set he (and your husband) has been eyeing.
You find yourself begging with and apologizing to someone who still doesn’t know how to tie their shoes and is only three feet tall.
That’s what being a mom looks like to me. It involves a lot of tears (on both my part and Miles’), it’s so messy and it is hard. But I don’t think I’d trade a single minute or thing about it.
What does motherhood look like to you?