Thursday, June 24, 2010

Becoming a MOTHER

A mother is someone that 'handles it' or 'takes care of it' or even supplies the endless answers to WHY??? A mother is calm and gentle. Even tempered and organized. She laughs at everything and makes cookies and shit. She's organized and 'TOGETHER', never flustered by the endless repetition of daily doings.

I'm not a mother. I am learning, but I don't think you EARN the right until you are about 60. I'm a wreck, proven so by the onslaught of SUMMER TIME. And the 'livin' ain't EASY!' I can't find my brain, exhausted by scheduling and apologizing to my clients for my motherly conflicts. Arranging my day around a not easy.

This is my first attempt at being a Summertime mom. I have negotiated camps, swim lessons, vacation bible school and family camping trips. I have been late, upset, overwhelmed, crazed and confused by this BEING that requires some level of engagement in any given day. I am NOT a mother. I want to scream. Loudly. Even though my voice will not be heard.

We missed the pre-registration for Kindergarten. OK. Now, I scramble for an electric bill, a shots record (that I'm not certain we are current on), dental appointments, school clothes purchases, eye exams, spinal taps (kidding), OH MY! REALLY??? What is the HUSTLE all ABOUT? I seriously can't get a grip!

Now, I sit paranoid that "Dora the Explorer" wasn't enough Spanish for the Summer and I will have sabotaged all that he learned in five years at IVY KIDS for a Summer of crazed MOMMYDOM! I didn't sign up for this. I signed up for peace and harmony, love and light. Not chaos and craziness that ensues because the PTA has a HIT OUT on you for providing too many PB&J sandwiches.

Becoming a mother HURTS and not the way that you think. It HURTS to give up everything you know for "THE SYSTEM". It sucks to fork over your SHOE / BOOZE allowance for a new pair of jeans you KNOW won't last the trip home. It's painful to sacrifice your body, mind and SOUL to this creature that plays tug-of-war with your heart. This is worse than a bad boyfriend. Becoming a mother and living that life, day after day, rocking away.....really....hurts.

Having a son is double the trouble. The little five year old 'girlfriends' that accost my car as I arrive for drop off. The McDonald's fascination and cravings that can't be squelched. The thirst for more WATER, POOLS and SWIMMING. Man. I'm done. I can't keep up. And my clients are starting to WONDER why my makeup regiment went from 'smokey eyes' to a swipe of mascara. My wardrobe from super polished to dusting off the NUT BARS. Seriously....I have GOT to get this under control.

1 comment:

  1. My dear friend, frustration heard loud and clear. I would say you have missed the one valid point that you are indeed a mother. A mother with a heart of gold that wants only the best for your son and family. The vital part is you do you best, you make list and you some how find a few moments in your well being to get some sleep in order to wake up a do it all over again. Only a mother such as yourself would be so hard on yourself. That in itself proves yourself worthy. I am sure why you would say it hurts. Here is a tip: open your photo library, start at the beginning and stroll as fast as your little finger can take you. Watch your memories flash before you, watch the memories, watch the laughter...then sit back and smile. There is not hurt I can assure you. We don't typically capture those on film. Smile some more.

    As far as worrying about keeping up with the Joneses. Don't. As long as you keep learning in a fun environment, your little superman will surprise you. Being a summertime Mom is a job that you have tried for, oh, let's see...27 days (give or take). Being a career driven woman and mother is something you have aspired your whole life. Seriously, you have got to cut yourself some slack.

    Believe me, there have been a thousand times when I have cried because I can't wash another damn dish or feel like shit because I ran out of bananas for breakfast. Frustrated because I can't keep up. But, at the end of the day when the little pitter patter feet love me more than the world itself, some how I muster up the strength to do it again. And I'll be damn if my monthly hormones are going to deter me.

    As your friend I tell you this: you are not a quitter. you are a survivor. i say just do your best. the people that need that part of you are probably in arm reach.

    lov ya sista girl.