A couple of years(and two kids)ago, when I quickly coined a name for my new found online journal, I had no idea what MOMMYVILLE would really be like.
The 'label' mommy is one thing. The entire ever-changing job description should become a written document that must be signed in blood before you ever even look at a boy. Life, as a mother, is completely and utterly incomprehensible.
I had no idea what I was getting myself into.
I LOVE my children. In fact (don't you dare tell my husband) I love being pregnant. I think I could be pregnant forever. It is truly 'pleasantville'. Once those little bodies are outside of me the real work begins.
With my first child I did everything by the book. Read every mommy whisperer article, magazine or encyclopedia to be sure I was right on track with the rest of those one child families. When the second one came I relaxed a little. Yet, I still mostly followed all the rules. Now, I am amazed if I can make it 'till 9 am without a breakdown (mine not the kids'), AND we are adding again to our family in a few short months.
It's really hard to explain why it is so overwhelming. I can't put my finger on one little thing. It's the culmination of a million tiny pieces that make it so (for the sake of those people who haven't yet had children let's call it) interesting being a mommy.
Yesterday I thought I had everything ready for the day when my darling hubby comes to me looking for a piece of his uniform for the game. "Isn't it in the washer?" I ask. "No, it's still in my bag", he says. I stare at him, dumbly. In my head I am saying (or maybe I actually said it out loud, "You mean to tell me I have to go and find your bag and unpack it as well as do all your laundry, well, EXCUSE ME for filling up my day with other frivolous things like feeding your children and cleaning your house and making your bed and..."
Other things I was doing or thinking of doing at that moment included; weeding and mulching the garden, politely turning down an invitation for lunch (whoever invites a mom and her three kids better be expecting a circus), printing out stats to bring to the announcer of the ball game, listening to the whining and begging of two children wanting to go to the pool before dad's ball game, and taking care of my 8 month old(see how the third child ends up at the end of the list?). Sigh.
I believe I will die in my kitchen. I am constantly cleaning up the high chair, sweeping up massive amounts of crumbs and stuff, doing the dishes, cooking, cooking, cooking, making bottles, cleaning bottles, emptying the dishwasher, trying to fit the pans in the cabinet, putting the chairs back to the table, scrubbing the rug under the table, putting shoes away and taking out the garbage. It is a full time job. I can't believe I ever even get to leave that room. For a few moments, when the kitchen is clean and the table is set and the hot food is just about ready and all the happy, hungry faces are looking at me and thinking, "thank you mom" (because it doesn't ever really get said, but I KNOW they think it). For those few seconds it is PURE BLISS being a mommy. Then someone spills milk and all h-e-double hockey sticks breaks loose.
But, even if only for that precious moment, I am genuinely happy to live in MOMMYVILLE. You can call me Mom, Mommy, Mother, Hey You or Wonder Woman, just don't expect me to answer you I have a kitchen to clean.
***This post was entered in the July Write-Away Contest at Scribbit.