What Motherhood Looks Like For Me
There’s no sugar-coating it: motherhood is hard. And right now, I’m deep in the trenches. I go to battle every day from sun up to sun down and sometimes from sun down to sun up. This is what motherhood looks like for me right now…
A Day in the Life of This Mommy
It looks like me being 35 weeks pregnant and my husband going into the field for 2 weeks. That means no help, no break, no assistance of any kind with anything for 14 days. I am in charge of our kids, our dog, our house, and all of the chores by my lonesome. Of course, this has to happen as our 18 month old is going through a sleep regression, teething, AND has just moved out of the crib and into a “big boy” bed.
It’s my 18 month old waking up at 6:30 in the morning after he woke up every single hour on the hour. ALL NIGHT LONG.
It’s my 4-year-old telling me repeatedly that he doesn’t want to clean up the mess he’s made in the playroom. And me having to repeatedly explain to him that he is part of our family, we all have responsibilities, and now that he is older, he is responsible for cleaning up the messes he makes. He doesn’t get it.
It’s me lying with my 18 month old in his twin size bed so he’ll go to sleep. And then him waking up 30 minutes later screaming.
It looks like me getting us all McDonald’s on the way to Walmart because it’s 2 o’clock and none of us have eaten lunch and I honestly just don’t feel like making ANOTHER peanut butter and jelly sandwich.
It’s me, standing outside our car, feeding my son a happy meal, in the 80 degree Georgia heat. In March. Seriously. Did I mention I was 35 weeks pregnant?
It looks like me waddling and breathing like I just ran a marathon even though all I did was walk from the parking lot into the store. I walk into Walmart and realize that they are upgrading the store so nothing is where it used to be. I then wander the aisles in exasperation while looking for the few items I came for.
It’s my 4-year-old son talking and talking and talking and talking. And my 18 month old trying to escape from the buggy. And him succeeding. Repeatedly.
It’s the people in Walmart looking at me and I know that they must be thinking, “Geez, Lady! You can’t even control the two kids you already have and you thought having another one was a good idea?”
It’s me wanting to collapse on the floor of Walmart because I am winded and overwhelmed physically and mentally and I just want to disappear. And I’m totally convinced at this point that my kids are going to send me into early labor.
It’s running into a friend of mine just in the nick of time. And her being an angel and helping me with my boys, walking me through the store collecting the last few items I needed, and helping me out to my car.
It’s me, zoned out on the drive home, and my 4-year-old talking and talking and talking and talking.
It’s making 987321498798 trips from the car into the house with kids, groceries, diaper bags, cups, trash, and a purse. Let’s just say, I know what a pack mule feels like.
It’s unloading the groceries while my 4-year-old tells me which episode of which show he wants to watch and then changing his mind 3 times. I put the first kids show I could find on. He voiced his disappointment. Loudly.
It’s both of my kids actually eating all of their dinner. Because it’s Taco Tuesday. Everyone likes Taco Tuesday. And they like the word “taco.”
It’s getting my boys upstairs and realizing that the youngest has pooped. And it’s not just a regular poop. It’s the messy, extra stinky, teething poop. And he is not happy. Apparently, he’d rather lie in his poop than have me clean him. Oh, the mind of a toddler.
It’s us getting to talk to Daddy for a few minutes before bedtime. And my 4-year-old asking (for the umpteenth time) if Daddy will be home in the morning. And me having to break his heart by telling him no.
It’s my boys crawling into their beds, me with my 18 month old, and us saying our prayers. It’s my 4-year-old thanking Jesus for Taco Tuesday. And for asking Jesus that all the people who don’t know Him will come to know Him.
It’s my babies passing out by 7 pm because it’s been a long day.
It’s making a big bowl of vanilla ice cream with sliced strawberries and a sprinkle of chocolate chips because, after a day like today, I totally deserve it.
It’s heading upstairs at 10:30 pm to pour myself into bed and hearing my youngest wake up crying. It’s him not wanting to go back to sleep, even with me snuggling him in his bed. I can barely keep my eyes open.
It’s staying up with him from 10:30 pm to 12 am.
And him waking up his brother. Now it’s 1:45 am.
It’s finally pouring myself into bed, exhausted physically, mentally, and emotionally knowing that I’ll have to be up at 6:30 with my youngest and ready to do battle all over again.
This is my version of motherhood. This is just about my every day, especially when my husband is gone. My boys have this innate ability to lose their minds when their dad is gone, especially for long periods of time. Normally, they aren’t so hard to handle, but with a growing belly coupled with exhaustion, pain, and difficulty breathing, it makes simple, every day situations seem like a mountain instead of the molehill that they are. But I just have to remind myself that this is a passing phase, daddy will be back home soon, and I will not be so large in a few short weeks. Instead, I will be in the throes of learning how to navigate life with 3 little ones in tow.
No one ever promised that motherhood would be easy. And I know that every mom out there has had days like mine. And worse. But these are the days that test us and make us stronger. We show up and get through it and know that we can make it, even if it almost killed us…or our kids, haha. So, Mama’s, just know that when you have a bad day, you aren’t the only one. We’ve all been there, done that. And if you’re out in public and see that another mom who is struggling, offer her a bit of help, an encouraging word, and a smile. I promise, it’ll make her day.