If It Hurts, Maybe You're Doing It Wrong

Some days motherhood is an impossible mountain. Other days I have all the answers. Those "other" days are usually closely followed by days that feel like the mountain has been dropped directly on my head, BUT I still post on those "other" days because I feel like I've got something figured out and want to tell the world of mothers how could be. Just in case I'm right, even if it's just for a day.

Today was Parent Teacher Conferences - my kid's doing great, teacher said some of the class helper moms (of which I will be on the list in March :)) have even commented to her on what a great reader he is. Crichton told me he'd been bad (stuck his tongue out at someone, sang the wrong words to a song; I know, terrible!) and might get some "zeros," which I guess are like Kindergarten F's. But he got so many "fours" (aka Kindergarten A's) that as he started to count them up, the teacher said he should wait and do it when he has a long free time. Ahh, my wonderful little boy! No zero's at all.

Teacher Conference, naturally, came right in the middle of Canon's normal nap time (ha ha, "normal"). So, I tried to wear him out and put him down earlier than normal. Just as we were beginning the process, I had one of those irrational mommy moments, hard to put into words, mostly just random emotion: what would this little 2 yr old remember of mommy if I die giving birth to his sister? How would my little girl turn out with out me? It's just not fair, that I would die before I get the chance to raise the little girl I've wanted for so long. And who could possibly give my kids the hugs and love they would need when mommy is dead? No one, no one but me and I'm dead!

So as these emotion/thoughts poured out, I, of course, was crying and Canon was making the silliest faces and growling and bouncing. Then, he'd lay down on his pillow and say, "Night night, mom," pull the blanket up, and pretend to sleep for 2-3 seconds. Then get up and be silly again. My goofy sweet kid had me smiling, even laughing through my irrational tears.

SO, what if it's just that God has this brilliant sense of humor, but too often we're taking things much too seriously, most of the jokes go right over our heads. It's like those people watch South Park and get all offended (not that South Park is equal to Godly Humor ... or is it?). I mean, think about sex. That, all by itself, is kind of a funny joke. And weird: just ask my 5 yr old who recently asked how daddies are part of making babies - he thought it was just something between moms and God: moms' bodies make the baby and God pops in a spirit; what's dad got to do with anything?

But maybe, to help us get through the pains and tragedies of life, God made children; silly, goofy, messy kids, to lighten the mood by running around naked, peeing on things. Perhaps, instead of getting mad and frustrated when they dump out their cereal bowls and rub ravioli on their heads, because that's one more mess mom gets to clean up, maybe we're not getting the joke.

I know some days are impossibly hard, no one is willing to bend and you can here your sanity cracking. But, is it really THAT important if the 2 yr old keeps his boots on? Is anyone going to die if he breaks another egg on the floor or eats another cheese stick? Couldn't you just show him how to pour water out in the sink instead of everywhere and let him enjoy gravity and wetness? He will eventually put himself to sleep, poop in the potty, not throw every meal on the floor, grow up, get married, laugh at his own kids. And just like every corny sitcom, if we moms can just keep life fresh by changing scenes and having wacky adventures and just laughing at the jokes ... well, it might be cheesy, but it's a lot more entertaining.

And then, when the kids finally drifts off for his nap and you have just 10 minutes left before you have to put him in the car and leave for Parent Teacher Conferences, instead of worrying or complaining, take those 10 minutes to put on a shirt not covered in little chocolate fingerprints, put on a dash of make-up and a spritz of hair spray, and just accept whatever mood he wakes up in, lovingly. It doesn't really matter, things never are as bad as they could be.


**That was the post I started earlier today. Then I read these blogs: The Comfy Place and Meg Casey. And well, it was just perfectly suited for my mood and emotions and thoughts. Sometimes things are worse than you could imagine and even then, somehow, I've got to believe, it'll still be ok. So, I'm gonna think for a bit, as I restraighten my house, and then I'll come back and post what I, Brandy Roth, would do if I KNEW I had just one more year.