Woooooweeeeeeeee… Motherhood. The messy, glory of motherhood. What follows is documentation of what motherhood looks like to me. Without staging. Without planning. Without makeup. Without a spastic tidy of the home. Dare I divulge – without underwear (*GASP). Without taking the time to artificially beautify it (which I adore but figured we are ALSO great sans undies and manicured images). I’ve taken photos in spaces that are real to me, to us. I have recorded moments that are true to my experience. A grubby, affectionate and blurry reality. As always… if you are searching for the glamor and the gorgeousness of life/parenting – run now (over to my Instagram, duh – that shit is STUNNING).
An ode to Motherhood
Motherhood is nibbling on hands and feet like it’s going out of style. You have never been a hands/feet kinda gal – but it is now your religion. You can’t stop. Won’t stop.
Motherhood is watching your highchair bound child travel – as if by magic – across your living room floor. Turns out dog licks are more forceful than you thought…
Motherhood is dropping baby weight like crazy… because you aren’t eating. You need to eat. Nope – chocolate doesn’t count.
Motherhood is football fumbling your wriggling, squirming ball of baby and catching them by ONE foot as they cliff dive from your body.
Motherhood is hearing that when your husband takes the dogs and baby for a walk – he ‘looks like a superhero’. When you take the dogs and baby for a walk you ‘look like you really have your hands full’.
Motherhood is buying yourself time – seconds/minutes – by feeding your son a full bagel as slowlllyyyyyyyy as you can (record is 37 minutes – those tiny pieces reallyyyyyy excercise his fine motor skills #doingitforhim).
Motherhood is discretely catching your child’s streaaaammmmm of vomit in a restaurant and smelling like sour puke for the rest of the day (sincere apologies to my hairdresser).
Motherhood is praying the bathrooms have a change table in them – and raging when they don’t. Pro tip – the area behind the door is likely the cleanest area on the bathroom floor. It’s disgusting to have to assess that… but assess it you have.
Motherhood is a large glass of red wine, ushering you into the quiet of the evening once your child is put to bed. Also – mat leave means it’s the weekend everyday… So…
Motherhood is turning to Google because ‘maybe he should be on a sleep schedule’. Turns out – Google doesn’t know anything about your kid or your family (which is surprising because THEY KNOW EVERYTHING) and doesn’t help your sleep schedule one freaking bit.
Motherhood is laughing at your child on the REGULAR because he is the funniest, most clever and handsome boy there ever was. You also laugh WITH him… because when one of you farts at anytime – the world stops (you thank God daily that he has such a sophisticated sense of humour).
Motherhood is staring someone square in the eyes while they’re trying to poop. And asking them, every time without fail, ‘ohhhh bud – you trying to poo?’. He is. And it’s everywhere.
Motherhood is wearing your husband’s old deodorant. Because you’ve run out… and you never remember to get more. Thank goodness your husband is wildly attracted to you smelling like his high-school self. Right, husband?
Motherhood is wanting desperately to be touched without necessity. Without strings attached. Without a berserker of a child raging for your boobs. It’s melting when your husband’s hand rests on your leg.
Motherhood is adventuring. It’s realizing everyone is happier when you are out and about so you do your best to NEVER be at home. Does this mean you spend lots of money on food and fun? Maybe. Is it worth it? Definitely.
Motherhood is exasperation. It’s wanting to get that ONE chore/task/frivolous thing done without junior demanding your attention. JUNIOR – CAN’T YOU SEE MOMMY IS TRYING TO WRITE A BLOG POST?! CHANGE YOUR OWN DIAPER.
Motherhood is untangling strands of your ever-shedding hair from your son’s genitalia.
Motherhood is feeling overwhelmed. With the babies, the household, the marriage, the personal crap… all of it.
Motherhood isn’t thinking twice about time away from your spawn. You relish it. You want more time away. You need more time away. Someone give you all the time away.
Motherhood is a bed full of toys, old clothes, receiving blankets and cell phones. A bed where you feed, rest, cry, giggle, play and read. You have never spent so much time in this bed. This is equal parts discouraging and delightful.
Motherhood is a guilty pleasure. You sometimes can’t believe you get to do this all day. It’s mother-effing challenging… but it’s the freaking best. You love it. You have zero clue what the future holds and this terrifies you… but this, right now? This is magic.
*For those concerned citizens of the great web – I thank you in advance for caring about and wanting to comment on my sanity, my son’s safety and my ability or inability as a mother. But please rest assured that I have enough self doubt to last a life time – and dedicate seven hours a day asking myself ‘what would a complete stranger TELL me to do!?’. This – as expected – proves most helpful when trying to be the best mother I can be.