Monday, November 5, 2012

The life of a mother is so random.
SO. Random.  
Or maybe that's just life in general.
I've chosen to see Motherhood as the catalyst for more chaos than,
let's say, a "child-free" life would have.
Whatever.  It just is.
Some days greeted by Batman at breakfast.
{Good morning.  Sure.  You can where that out in public.}
BURSTING with energy, excitement and creativity.  
Where you hit the ground running, lucky to go pee, brush your hair and put pants on.
Some days?  
Slow moving.  Lazy.  Maybe whiny.  Combative.   
Despite how organized and "put together" we try to be,
how early we get up before the kids to prepare for the insanity that is surely to ensue,
every day is different.  Random.
And thank God.
I never thought I'd be that mom.  
ALWAYS (until motherhood,) thriving on tradition.  
Familiarity, sameness.  
Hell. . .preparedness!
How I became THAT mom, that so quickly throws her hands up,
GLADLY would tie the two strings holding my 4-year-old's Batman costume together, before we head out for the day.
Or allows her kids to watch obscene amounts of television,
or spoils them with fun, crazy adventures.
I don't know. 
But you do.  Because you're a mom.  Quietly transformed each day, 
in order to live in harmony with the little people you've been called to love and guide.  
No matter their issues, their personalities, their obnoxious behaviors, their physical, mental and emotional challenges,
you just show up and do your best.
I've learned this job requires some SERIOUS stretching of muscles in the mind, muscles that would otherwise atrophy or lie quietly dormant and unaffected.
But when you're a mom?  You don't have a choice.
Your past thoughts, perceptions, judgements are shoved down and kicked in the gut,
time and time again.
You learn to accept almost everything, even if you don't want to.
You learn to tolerate.
To understand.
TO empathize.
Because you learn, right outta' the gate, that this 'mothering' thing?
FULL of randomness.
Random that one totally healthy kid would start having seizures 3X a night.  Leaving you to scramble and claw at everything to make them stop, find out why, search for answers, only to have them cease as unexpectedly as they started.  (Has been almost a year now.)
Random that you could have two completely 'typical' kids.  Only to have two more, BOTH with lifelong disabilities.
And the small and insignificant things.
That are almost cosmic and laughable.
How WITHOUT fail, the day after you've spent an ENTIRE week deep cleaning your house, someone dinkin' around at the kitchen table dumps an entire pitcher of OJ all over your lovely floors. 
Your beautiful, squeaky clean life, now sticky and smelly.
BUT swiftly becoming real.
I remember when fear and the world outside my lovely little life became more than bee stings, burglars, tornadoes and falling off my bike.  
It was when I became a mom. 
When all the things that could easily be handled with basements, locks and ointment, are now often, untouchable.
And out of our complete control.
Some days, no matter how 'easy' life may seem,
I feel like I'm standing in the center of a room that's spinning.
The terrors of the outside world, swirling around me and my children.  Who, of course, are running along with it.
Not a care in the world.  Because it's not their job to worry.
It's all mine.
Add in the things that are ACTUALLY happening.  
Not the imagined or feared, 
but the now.
The now of caring for small humans with totally random needs,
and levels of intelligence.
The dumb sh** that BOGGLES my mind.
Telling Charlie to go get in the car for school,
only to come out and find him with his face in the exhaust pipe of the mini van, 
sniffing the smoke pouring out of my running car.
"What?  It smells good, mommy!"
Days when I just can't find a good attitude.
Days when even the eggs look at me wrong.
"Jack, brush your teeth.  It's time for bed."
"I can't."
"Why not?  Let's go already?!  Come on."
"No.  Mom.  I really can't."
"MOM!  I can't!  Grace put my toothbrush in between her butt cheeks!"
@$&* %#$ F&*%!
Never-ending, randomness.
"Mom?  The otha' day?  When we were at the Seniors' home?"
{Grace's class went to spend some time with the Seniors at an assisted living home. . .}
". . .my Senior lady started eating her paintbrushes.  She thought they were food."
{My heart broke for her.} 
"She did???  Oh Gracie.  What did you do?"
"I just kept coloring with my Senior boy." (Elderly man.)  
"My teacher took them from her."
"Oh.  Honey.  Do you know why she did that?"
"Sometimes when we get older?  Our brain's stop working and we do funny things.  We can become kinda' like little babies."
{No idea how to explain this to her.}
"SO.  When mommy starts eating paint brushes, will you take care of me?"
"Ah, no."
"What?  You won't?"
"No.  Jack can.  He's man enough to do that."
No loyalty.  Despite the sacrifices I've made to make her life easy.
To guide and care for.
Or trying to teach Charlie his letters of the alphabet.
"Charlie.  What letter is this?"  {holding up a T.}
"Charlie.  Come on.  What letter does this look like?"
"Weiner!"  he replies, giggling his face off.
I give up. 
Clearly, I've lost it.  And so has my family.
Having more days than not,
searching the front seat for the keys that are already in the ignition,
the hairbrush that's already in my hands,
the phone that's in the other, that I need to make a call with.
Crazy.  Pure crazy.
Learning to pull the reins in when I realize I have WAY too much on my mind,
and a lot of nothing.  NOTHING I can control.
SO.  TIME AND TIME AGAIN, pulling myself back to the present.
Wherever that is,
and all the joy and peace that can be found there.
 Picking those pumpkins.
Wheat in the wind.
Gracie's in the grass.
Crazy mommies, hiding under hoods.
Or Charlie crafting PB's & honey, a staple in our house.
And ALWAYS looking for the humor in things, no matter how grim or scary the future may seem.
Whenever I feel stuck in motherhood, or life in general,
I have to move.
Not just out of my head,
but out of that 'sameness' that I used to find so much comfort in.
And instead, explore.
Opening up my tired mind to the world going on outside around us.
And remembering home is wherever we are.
Honoring that some days (most days) in motherhood,
are about couch-diving and surviving,
wiping booger noses on sleeves and blankets,
falling asleep sitting up,

Rarely is it pretty.
Raising children, bringing out our absolute best and calling forward our complete worst.
We muddle through the randomness.
Always grateful for another day to try again.


gabbygrace said...

awesome true...all of it...I most love the idea of getting overwhelmed and "moving" getting out of the sameness and doing something different- a trip to the sculpture garden will do :) Love you!

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