Many thanks to The Baby Spot for sharing one of my first blog posts, Impulse. It illustrates a tough period of mommy-hood that tends to repeat itself. Some of the feelings haven’t gone away. I’ve just gotten used to it and have learned to cope. Being a mommy is never easy, but more often than not, I feel the bliss of being one.
This blog has truly been a form of therapy for me, but has also allowed me the joy of connecting with all sorts of people all over the globe. I am constantly amazed by the accomplishments, talents, and experiences of the writers I follow. It humbles and inspires me.
While I looked in the mirror, first thing this morning, with my hair askew and sleep in my eyes, my incredible daughter says to me:
“Mommy, I think you look pretty when I look in your eyes.”
As a follow up to my previous post Friday Fall Foliage, I decided to gather a few pretty fall leaves from Charlotte, NC, press them in a book, and bring them home to my daughter.
She cried and said, “I don’t want leaves.” Then she crumpled them up and threw them in the garbage.
Welcome home, mommy.
You just don’t get it. But I’ll explain it one last time.
This mommy thing is hard as hell. It doesn’t matter if I’m a stay at home mom, a work from home mom, or a work outside the home mom. Notice the common thread. I am always MOM. Mom is it. The go to. Where the buck stops. The end all be all. The final answer. The rock.
Would I have it any other way? Absolutely not. Do I regret this choice? Hell no! Do I wish someone else would take my place? Not in a million years.
Let me tell you what I do want. It’s very simple. It can be expressed in one word. You’ve all heard it, from the time you were a little kid. It’s what we all want from the people we love. There’s even a song about it.
That’s all I want. I don’t want to trade jobs with you. I don’t want to complain. I don’t think you have it any easier than me. I don’t want my job to be any different. I don’t want to make comparisons. I just want the respect that I deserve for doing what I do and being who I am. I am mom.
When I need help, don’t make me beg. If I need to leave, don’t make me explain. If I need some time, just give it to me. If I can do something for myself, don’t turn it into an act of congress. When I’m at the end of my rope, pull me up.
Every once in a while, just stop and try on my shoes. They won’t fit. It doesn’t matter. They’re not supposed to. But they fit me perfectly. Respect that.
Emma arrived for her Halloween parade at school today in her Princess Aurora costume and we were a few minutes late. She was walking a bit too slowly in my opinion, so I was gently nudging her from behind. After a few of those nudges, she said, “Stop pushing me, Mommy.”
Message received, my sweet princess.