The truth

I'm going to be the girl who says it...who says what a lot of others won't. Others like Julia Roberts. Now, to clarify, I like Julia Roberts. I like her movies, I'm a tad jealous of her smile and her legs and her bank account, and I do get the sense that she has a pretty decent grasp on reality compared to others in her industry. But who really knows for sure? What I do know for sure is that when she was on Oprah this week, she spoke beautifully about her children. She raved about her children. And I'm sure her children deserve such praise. Sometimes. Just like my children deserve such praise...sometimes.
But sometimes...they don't. Sometimes motherhood isn't as dreamy as some would lead you to believe. Now, before I'm attacked for being a heartless breeder, I will say this; I love my children fiercely every single minute of every single day. At any time, in any place, I would lay down my life in order to protect theirs. No question, I would not hesitate.
But I do yell at them, I do tell them to go away, I do at times wonder where the hell they came from. And I do, and I'll own this, laugh when I hear other mothers say "I can't for one moment imagine my life without my children." Um, I can. And my friends can. And that's what makes us decent mothers who don't quit at the end of the day. We admit to ourselves, and to each other, that we can in fact imagine a morning when a child doesn't lose her flippin mind about the fact that I want her to wear a dress when she wants to wear a skirt and a shirt. I can in fact imagine a world in which I don't hear myself say/scream "No you may not tie a leash around your sister's neck and yank her off the bed simply because you're pretending she's a puppy!" I can imagine that. I do imagine that. And then I return to clapping out the muddy cleats in the driveway, to wiping down the sink that's completely covered in disturbingly turquoise toothpaste, to posing repeatedly for pictures that someone's taking with a fake camera while I desperately try to cook dinner, to calming down the irrational troll/human being who doesn't understand why I won't allow her to climb up the shelves in the refridgerator so that she might pour her own milk "like a big kid."
I allow myself to imagine such a world because when I do, I realize how ridiculously funny and blessed my world is. In fact, when I put such thoughts down on paper/in a blog, I have to laugh outloud. How could I not? In the past 24 hours I've had to reason with creatures who cry at the mere sight of carrots, beings that can find reason to whine about which car and which parent delivers them to school. I have had to watch my 6 year old storm out of a room because the 4 year old wore the barrette that she wanted. I have also been there to see myself hide the dirty pots and pans in the oven, lest the guy who delivers my groceries (yeah, I'm that girl too) see that I don't tend to clean up if I don't have to. I have been there when my dog decided to poop on the rug in the front hall seconds before it was time for me to leave for work. I have been there when my husband asked me how to do the laundry.
I could go on and on.
But I won't. Because I'm already laughing hard enough.
THIS is motherhood. This is life. And it's funny. It's ridiculous.
I'll end with this...a friend of mine recently gave birth to her first child. A beautiful, healthy baby boy. And in an email exchange she mentioned that she never knew exactly how much work this parenting thing would be. I warned her...first, you lose your dignity. That comes with the whole "growing as big as a house then lying on a bed/table, shoving a human out of your nether regions" bit. Then, with time, you lose your mind. And your only weapon is your sense of humor. So you had best tend to it, nurture it, feed it.
Find yourself some other mothers, some who have "been there and done that." Share your stories, and laugh about them. Laugh hard.
And when you're done, take a peek through the crack in the door, take a moment to watch your child silently sleeping...the same child who was really quite insane but a few mere hours ago. And smile, and begin again.

There will be day ones...

I have no idea why I'm doing this. Well, I have some idea. I'm doing it because you told me to. The "you" being all of you who said I should. The "you" who are kind enough to let me believe that I can write, and write well. So I'm starting a blog. And you have yourselves to thank or blame. I'll use it to record my infinite wisdom so that you might go forth and change the world. Or, I'll use it to complain about my kids, my husband, my job, and thus remind myself that when I really think about it, I have NOTHING to complain about. I'll remind myself as often as I can that there simply will be days, "those days"...and that what gets me through, what gets us all through, is a wicked sense of humor and some fabulous friends. Happy reading. Happy laughing.