Being the mom to an infant and a toddler really has me pulling my hair out lately. I spend a lot of time on my blog sharing the ugly – the poop, tantrums and sleepless nights.
Sometimes I have to reel my emotions in and remind myself of how freaking lucky I am.
I have an adorable, healthy three year old. I have a sweet, beautiful three month old. I have a loving husband, a dog, a home, a good job and I am healthy. I have a car and health insurance and friends and food and faith.
I complain about how hard it is to parent. Because parenting is the hardest job I’ve ever had. I share the stories of what make me an extremely mediocre parent.
But I don’t ever share the good stories. Because when it all boils down, I do think I’m a pretty good parent.
So what does it mean to be a Mom to me?
It means waking up in the middle of the night to find your toddlers blankie that fell off the bed because he can’t sleep without it.
It means getting up at 4:30 every morning to feed your infant and get in some extra snuggles.
It means letting someone vomit in your hands because your baby is sick and that’s your first reaction.
It means pouring your entire heart into this tiny little human that you and your partner created.
It means filling your DVR with cartoons that feature talking animals. And watching them. And singing the theme songs. Over and over.
It means getting straight up pissed off if anyone makes your baby cry.
It means loving someone more than you love yourself.
It also means seeing your worst traits come out in someone else. It’s painful but I know my toddler got his stubborn streak from me.
It means carrying your 35 pound three year-old up the stairs to bed every night.
It means reading that 50-page story about the gingerbread man at bedtime almost every night.
It means playing monsters and hiding in tee-pees and letting your kid crawl all over you.
It means crying happy tears the first time your newborn smiles at you because you realize it was all worth it.
It means spending nine months carrying a human around in your uterus.
It means giving half your dinner to your toddler because whatever you have is always better than his.
It means actually learning the names of all the super heroes that your toddler has suddenly become obsessed with.
It means reacting with a hug and empathy even though you might want to strangle them. Because some tantrums really are handled better that way.
It means putting some else’s needs before your own.
It means not showering as often as you used to.
It means converting to mom jeans and realizing that your body will never be as stretch mark free as it was in your twenties.
It means being just as excited as your kids for Halloween night. And not just because I stole some of his candy.
It’s loving someone unconditionally, even when they accidentally hit you in the face with a toy dump truck and bust your lip open.
It’s gross, it’s dirty and oh-so trying on my patience. But it’s so worth it.
Until Next Time,
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