Being a Mom: The Truth

I'm really inspired to write these days. Maybe it's the blog makeover & or maybe it's the changing of the seasons. I have words flowing out of me...and they aren't swear words! #victory

I have this darling friend/bride/client who I was chatting with this morning. She's one of my favorite people because she loves me - that's all it takes, people. Her comment to me the other day was, "I think my heart jumps a little every time you post a new blog!" Ooooh, I hope so! So, as we chatted today, I asked her what she would like to see me write about today. Her suggestion: being a mom. Now, I could use my grammar skills here, & use lots of alliteration & flowery adjectives to describe the beauty of being a mom. I could paint you a visual of frollicking through a meadow, holding your darling clean/dressed/quaffed child's hand as you laugh & smile at each other. Wake up. You're a mom. You're lucky if you get a shower in before dinner. Ironically, about 5 minutes after we talked about blogging this topic, my perfect, little angel had, what my dear friend, Nikki, lovingly termed, an assplosion. So, I sat on the floor in the bathroom with a roll of paper towels, wipes, Lysol, & took the baby potty apart & began to disinfect. #glamour

"Don'tcha wish your girlfriend was hot like me" suddenly started playing in my head. #OOTD #bejealous

When I first dreamed of being a mom, it was roses, unicorns & rainbows. What they don't tell you is that 95% of the time you are squeezing boogers out of noses, stepping on Legos, & wiping poop from crevices you didn't know existed. Even after I had my little princess, I was still blissfully unaware of just how gross being a mom actually is. Poop didn't melt the paint on the walls, toys were still properly stowed away because your little blob couldn't move, & you were showered because you had time before they started trying to scale furniture & jump off, yelling, "Mama! Watch me!," as you run like Edward does in Twilight hoping to break their fall, only to stub your toe on one their stupid toys. 

In the midst of all the butt-wiping, there are the "terrible twos." Now, in this day & age, we are no longer allowed to call them the "terrible twos." But I don't know how I would be able to say "terrific twos" with a straight face when, in the middle of Target, your child begins to throw him or herself on the floor, screaming at you because you won't buy them the princess sticker pack, pulling at pigtails, yelling at you to leave them alone. And you are panicked because now you look like you are trying to kidnap this child who you spent 12 straight hours squeezing out of your lady garden, only to have them turn on you when stickers are on the line. Yes, I think "terrific" sums up that nightmarish hellscape beautifully. 

Now, I'm clearly highlighting some of the "opportunities" (like Jim & Pam used the word when they did things they didn't want to do - advice from their counselor) that we are blissfully unaware of when we get into this business of baby-making. YES! I love being a mom! I always wanted to be a mom! I wouldn't trade it for anything, so don't think that I'm a jerk for highlighting some of the less glamorous "opportunities" of motherhood. This kid is amazing & hilarious & witty & smart & kind & caring. I love her to the moon. I just wish someone had alerted me to the amount of butt-wiping involved in parenthood. At least I would have been prepared.

Thank you to my mom for wiping my butt, squeezing my boogers out, & stepping on Legos. You are a rockstar.

Now get out there & wipe some butts!  - what!? I don't even know. Sleep-deprived.
xoxo,
a.