The Real Truth

The Real Truth…here it is. No sugar coating necessary.

The mom gig is HARD. It is ugly, messy, unpredictable, and chaotic. Full of stained yoga pants, messy buns, three-day old make-up, tears, poop, slobber, and lack-of sleep hallucinations.  It is overwhelming. When your child sprouts octopus arms and is strangling the life out of your legs, screaming to be picked up and held, refusing to be more than millimeters from your face, and you, still in your work clothes, dinner unmade, house chores to be done, have a million things to accomplish while attempting to calm your relentless child.

The house…let’s face it. It is a MESS. Like category five hurricane of toys, shoes, snacks, you name it. Regardless of the amount of times you pick up those hot wheel cars or Barbie dolls or Legos, their sharp edges will find your feet. Most often occurring as you’re tip-toeing downstairs after finally getting that teething or sick child put down at an unusually late hour, silently cursing the pain, trying not to cry, while simultaneously praying there are drops of fresh-enough, somewhat drinkable coffee (or wine) left to get you through another sleepless night. Laundry is piled high in the laundry room, so high occasionally you cherry pick out your husbands work clothes because if not, he won’t have clothes to wear the next day. Noticeable dust has accumulated in the unused rooms like the guest room, the dining room, honestly, in every room except the baby’s room. Sticky Cheerios cover the remote control and the walls like art. Windows and Doors are covered in hand prints and face prints and slobber.  Dog hair has accumulated on the hard wood or tiled floors. As you look at your home, the to-do list seems impossible to conquer.

The husband (or significant other/partner) is tired (and hungry) after a long day at work, sees a back yard littered with toys  and piles of dog poop, weeds to be pulled, grass to be mowed, trash to be taken to the curb, kids to bathe, you name it. He sees a to-do list too. “Alone” OR “Adult” time takes place at the dinner table, over your child’s loud babbling, while shoveling food into your own mouths at record pace.  If you are lucky and the children go to sleep at a somewhat reasonable hour, you may get a few minutes of couch cuddles before it is time for more chores or bed. Late night shows you used to watch together now fill your DVR along with Mickey Mouse Clubhouse and Paw Patrol to be watched weeks if not months after the episodes air because 10 PM shows are on too late.

You. Tired, stressed, dirty, beautiful you. Oh, how your life has changed. Your alarm clock set earlier than it ever has, your “Get-ready” routine one/sixteenth as long as it was before children, your closet mostly unused because you have your five “ready-to-go” outfits you rotate with extreme precision. Dry Shampoo is your best friend. You drag yourself to kitchen and gasp with sheer joy, thanking the high heavens your husband put coffee on that morning. You pour yourself a big cup and doctor it how you like it inhaling the miracle of steaming coffee, a mama’s lifeline. It is this thirty seconds of joy, from the inhale to the first few sips, that are the slowest and calmest moments of the day, the pat on the back that say “go-get-em-mama, you can do it!”

The Mom gig is hard….but it is also wonderful, beautiful, and fulfilling. The sweet sound of a child laughing, the pitter-patter of a toddler running, late night cuddles, and the “mama, I love you’s” are little reminders that the three-day old make-up, the tears (your child’s and your own), the sleepless nights, the Cheerio art, the poop and the slobber staining your yoga pants (which you took out of the dirty laundry pile in the laundry room) are pretty much the best things about your life. Despite settling for only foundation and mascara, (lets face it, lip-stick is for a good day), you are beautiful, you are fierce, you are a force, and you are a super hero.