Motherhood, a Fancy Name for Damage Control

The other day my mom called, and I really wanted to talk. But, my kids have this weird radar: as soon as anyone calls me on the phone all hell breaks loose. They flock like vultures to the dining room- the only place I have phone reception in our rural location. I mean it isn’t really rural, and Africans have cell service better than me, but whatever. I apologize to everyone who has talked to me on the phone. To all the people that have tried to call, but I didn’t answer, I would have sounded like a jumbled robot anyways.

So, the phone conversation ended like this “Mom, I really want to talk and I miss you, but Elijah is crying hysterically and Finely just poked herself in the head with a fork.”

Can anyone relate?

Seriously, being a mom is like running a rodeo circus of drunk monkeys who are all screaming for their bottle of milk, wanting more bread while jumping on a trampoline surrounded by knives.

Or is that only my life as a mother?

If I could count the number of times my kids have a blood curdling scream injury while we are trying to make it out the door (every time we leave the house) or that the toddler took her diaper off and poo’d on the floor this week (eight) or perhaps the ridiculousness of me bargaining with said 2 year old to eat some food by telling her it’s candy, covered in syrup with sugar sprinkles- I would still be counting.

I am here to tell you, that motherhood is a circus. It isn’t all lullabies and rainbows. I just want everyone to know, there is no such thing as a perfect mom. I mean, maybe there is, but I haven’t met one yet. Amongst my friends- we all have days where we could probably feed our kids off the kitchen floor (because it’s covered in old food, not because it’s clean) want to lock ourselves in the bathroom (and do) or turn the music up while driving, despite the crying or 1,000 questions about the mystery of life and the truck that just drove by with the big mirrors- while chanting sweet nothings about our happy place.

All days are not totally nuts, but most of them are in one way or another. It’s kind of the new normal. Sometimes I have to remind myself to stop buzzing like a bee, and eat some food, instead of downing coffee like a college freshman taking tequila shots. I am so, so, thankful for the 3 kids that call me mama, but man oh man, do they keep me on my toes.

Sometimes I read trashy novels like Confessions of a Shopaholic (does that qualify as trashy?)- and maybe its the baby one- but remember when the self righteous healthy super mom friend is caught feeding her kids chocolate bars and french fries- or something along those lines- It’s beautiful and hilarious in it’s irony, because motherhood is about survival and grace.

It isn’t about perfection.

I’m here to tell ya, you aren’t the only one who sends your kids to the TV with apples and granola bars for breakfast- or can’t remember the last time you gave them a bath.

Here is to loving our kids, ourselves, and our mates- to celebrating the little victories like making it through the morning with no tears and getting through baby bed time before 10 pm. To knowing, at the end of the day, you care a lot, do some things well, and also make mistakes, but that’s what life is.

-Miss Ash