My friends will tell you I have one of the worst stomachs known to man. It was in full flare-up mode today, but hey, the grocery shopping had to be done. So there I was in Kroger with a 21 pound baby strapped to my chest, trying to wrangle my three-year-old human pinball while preventing my five-year-old from steering the cart into someone or something important, and maybe…just maybe…a little air escaped. Totally understandable given the angry churning in my belly, and thankfully it was the silent kind.
“What is that smell?” Eli only has one volume; his “whisper” can be heard two states away. “Caleb, was that you?”
“Nope.” Caleb would have claimed the smell if it was his.
“Mommy, that was YOU! YOU FARTED! EWWWWW. IT STINKS!”
At this point, people are staring. And snickering. And Caleb is joining in the accusations. And the baby is smiling so sweetly that I can’t possibly blame her. I should have stayed home and let the minions go hungry.
Motherhood is not exactly as graceful as I expected. In fact, motherhood is many things that I never expected. This is what those “What to Expect” books should really tell you.
1. You’ve all heard that you’ll never use the bathroom alone again. That is, perhaps, an understatement. Not only will you not be alone, but at some point, you will poop while a tiny human sits on your lap. And that tiny human will comment disdainfully about the smell. Or perhaps, if you have a boy, he’ll admire it. If you decide to breastfeed, you’ll do that on the toilet too. And remember how you used to use a piece of toilet paper to keep your precious fingers from touching anything in a public bathroom? Now it is entirely likely that you’ll crawl under a stall door to rescue your screaming toddler who has locked herself in and whose every movement is triggering the obscenely loud and scary automatic flush to go off again and again. In spite of the germ quotient on your body, it will still be days before you shower. Which brings me to number 2.
2. You will stop bathing. This is especially true if you opt to have three or more children, because at that point, life is about survival. And you can survive without a shower. There are many things you cannot survive without, and many of them can be destroyed by a band of minions in the time it takes you to shampoo your hair. And sometimes, when they all decide to nap at once, sleep trumps shower in the hierarchy of needs. So invest in some good deodorant…you’ll need it.
3. That cute pregnancy forgetfulness…Never.Goes.Away. You will forget your birthday, your age, your child’s middle name, the to-do list you made in your head, the day of the week…even how to drive. There are days where you simply will not be able to think; you will be flat-out too exhausted. The kids can still think, though…and while you’re trying to remember your social security number, they’ll be cracking the code on the childproof lock.
4. No matter how good your parenting skills are, at some point dinner will turn into a hostage situation, complete with demands, ultimatums, and psychological warfare. Nearly every tactic you try will backfire, and eventually you’ll dump good food in the trash without serving it to your toddler because you want to avoid the screaming. Supposedly this phase ends at some point and then they become human garbage disposals. Asparagus and I are still waiting.
5. You will drive a dumpster. No, I’m serious. Not only will you find yourself proudly owning a minivan, but it will be coated with sticky cheerios, mushy puffs, tiny pieces of Styrofoam from who knows where, halves of “paid” stickers from the grocery store, enough hot wheels to cause a major urban traffic jam, random dried-out baby wipes, and half a dozen sippy cups that at one point contained something that might have been milk. Go ahead and buy stock in an air freshener company; you’ll be keeping them in business. And don’t even think about swinging through the car wash for a little tidying up; either the car wash or the vacuum will cause your toddler to scream like a hyena and someone will call child protective services.
6. You’ll spend the first year waiting excitedly for your kiddo to talk, and the next five will be spent desperately hoping he’ll be silent. Everything you shouldn’t say will be repeated. If you mention that cauliflower causes gas, your three-year-old will suddenly remember that factoid three months later when your gracious host serves him some. And he’ll look up and your soon-to-be-former friend and say, “No thanks. Cauliflower gives me gas.” And don’t get me started on the stage where they can’t say all their letters, and suddenly every word becomes a bad one. My oldest didn’t say his r’s for two years. And he loved to talk about his Crocs, bridges, and forks. Loudly. In public.
7. That whole sleep deprivation thing doesn’t end. Ever. After the newborn stage, there’s growth spurts, teething, wonder weeks, night terrors, nightmares, fevers, random bouts of vomit, poopy diapers, new sibling disruptions, and random nights where your toddler shows up inches from your face at three a.m. because he “wants breakfast.” I’m not there yet, but I’m told that once they start sleeping until noon (glory!), you still can’t sleep because you’re up all night worrying about them. So if you don’t have yet have children, forget about living it up before you become a parent. Sleep it up. It might be your last chance.
Here’s the thing, though. If I’d read these words of mine pre-children, if someone had told me I’d be rolling around town in a Kia minivan, sporting the fifteen extra pounds that I just cannot lose until I finish breastfeeding, with my hair in messy bun and clothes that are a decade out of date, I would have hyperventilated. I would have decided never to have kids.
And I would have missed, silky-soft baby cheeks, coos and squeals, tiny (and not so tiny) hands reaching up for mine just because, hearing myself called “mama, mommy, and mom”, those sacred moments where my sons whisper “I love you” because the feeling overwhelms them and they just have to speak it. I would have missed rubbing noses, squealing through the fountains at the splash park, tandem slides down the artificial turf at Summit Park. I would have never noticed the acorns that the tree down the street sheds every fall…or discovered a pile of them in the bottom of my dryer. I would have missed my children singing, unabashed and unaware that they are miles off-key. I would have missed all these great big feelings that come with being mom. I would have missed these three remarkable spirits that make my (messy) house a home. I would have missed the thousands of seemingly mundane moments that make up the most important thing I’ll ever do in my life.
I never expected that I’d look at my smelly, messy, embarrassing, decidedly uncool life, and be so stinking grateful for every second of it.
This mommy thing? It is beyond worth it.
