When I was younger, I day dreamed constantly about being a mother. I day dreamed about the look of pure joy on my husband's face when I told him I was pregnant. I dreamed about how I'd just glow all through my pregnancy, maneuvering through that delicate time with the utmost grace and poise. I'd be the image of perfectly contented mommy-to-be. And then of course when my little one came into this world, it would be just as easy - I'd miraculously overcome the pain. My husband would beam at me and tell me I was the most beautiful woman in the world and then we'd go on to raise our little children in the most perfect way possible.
Are any of you still there or are you doubled over laughing right now? Sadly, that is so absolutely the way I day-dreamed my life would be. Me. The oldest of nine children. Apparently watching my mother overcome all sorts of struggles did nothing to dampen my spirits. (She made it look so easy, I actually thought I could do one better, HA!)
The reality is that my husband threw up when he found out about baby #2 (this was after he stared at the wall for about five minutes). I didn't glow through pregnancy. I got injured during the last one in a car accident and could barely move. When I did move, I waddled. I was not a perfect image of any sort of mommy. I had crazy mood swings, I would yell at my husband and then cry with my toddler. And when it came time to have the baby, the only thing I overcame was the hurt feelings of having to get another c-section rather than having my baby naturally.
As for having perfect little children and being the perfect mother? Not a chance. Not even a little one. Yesterday my son kissed the baby and then poked her in the eye. The day before that he was pretending to be Batman and super-hero-leaped himself right off a chair and down the step. Where was mommy? Two feet away but not quick enough to catch him. Last night I snuggled the baby, fell asleep with her and woke up with both of us covered in pee. (Hers, not mine thankfully!)
This house is 85% chaos and "going with-the-flow"and 15% things going exactly the way they were supposed to. Honestly though? I love it. I love finding crayon artwork on the wall and seeing my son proudly show it off. I love that my daughter blows spitty bubbles out of her mouth and all over my clean shirt in her excitement to communicate with me. I adore that my son is trying out his problem-solving skills by putting electronic toys into the washing machine after he hears that they are "dirty". I love the small accomplishments in the seeming-mistakes.
My mommy fantasy is no longer for things to be perfect. Now my fantasy is just to get through each week with no serious injuries and something accomplished each day, no matter how small. My fantasy is now for my husband and I to keep growing in the deep love that older relationships have rather than the Hollywood-romance scenes that played out in my head as a youth. My fantasy is for my kids to grow up feeling that they can do anything, and my husband and I to grow old feeling like we have done everything. If I could just accomplish that, I'd say I'll have done alright.
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