“Okay, sweet boy, let’s go,” I calmly say to my 2-year-old after I’ve put his jacket, hat and boots on for the third time in 30 seconds. He grins at me as he grabs the zipper and begins to pull.
“I don’t think so,” I exclaim as I scoop him up in one arm, grab the diaper bag with the other and politely try to guide my 4-year-old out the front door.
But wait, how could I forgot, he must be the one to open the door (duh), turning the knob at a glacial pace with as little strength as possible while our alarm system taunts me, letting me know that I have only 15 seconds left to make a mad dash out of the house before things get real.
The older one jumps from the doorstep to the porch so the little one slithers out of my arms to do the same while I, ever so determined and a little less patiently, try to coax both into the car.
When everyone is finally buckled in and I dive into the front seat, I look at the clock on the dashboard. It says 8:52. School starts at 9. And, we have been trying to leave since 8:15.
Whether in the elevator, as these deliciously endearing boys push every single button and the omnipresent voice responds through the microphone checking in to make sure all is okay, or at the grocery store where my little one is in the front of the wagon seizing only unnecessary items and tossing them in the back while my big one is gracefully strolling into everyone and everything as he pushes his very own “customer in training” wagon, I, without fail, receive the same words of wisdom from every lovely stranger who has been captivated by my boys’ charm.
“Enjoy it now. They grow up so fast.”
I always smile graciously and exchange pleasantries about how cute they are, how nice it is to have boys so close in age, etc.
When I reflect on these words, I don’t think it is a lie. In fact, I know it is not. These men and women have been in my seat at one point in their lives and have the great gift of hindsight to remind me that, even when I feel like time is standing still, it is actually racing before my eyes.
But this is what I’ve come to learn during my time home. There is so much to enjoy – really, truly so much to enjoy – but it’s alright, actually healthy and totally normal, not to enjoy it all.
As President Obama so eloquently said to his daughters in his recent farewell address, “Of all that I’ve done in my life, I am most proud to be your dad.” Now just replace “dad” with “mom” and remember that I’ve accomplished way less than the President of the United States. But you get the idea. And it rings true.
There’s no greater success in my life than the existence of my two sons and the way in which they are growing, learning and achieving. But, I say in the same breath, it’s more physically, mentally and emotionally trying than anything I’ve ever experienced. A 36 hour trip to Berlin to lead a 24 hour data visualization marathon doesn’t hold a candle to this type of intensity.
I’m the eternal event planner, chef (help!), doctor, teacher, mediator, groomer, stylist, etc. And while I smile, laugh and kiss these kids all day long, don’t be fooled. For each smile there is a sigh, every laugh a tear, and each kiss an unabashed, stern and disciplinary reprimand (one might even venture to say a holler).
Motherhood is the epitome of opposites. Now, I’d like to go on record here saying that, overall, I am a pretty stable, even-keeled, happy person, and my boys are smart, kind, well-behaved kids. I promise – my husband can vouch for us. But, as a mother, in just one day, my emotions can span the full spectrum. From joyful to sad, excited to scared, bored to overwhelmed, energetic to exhausted, surrounded to isolated, proud to annoyed, confident to doubtful and fulfilled to wanting more. The list goes on.
I’m going to level with you. Are you ready for the truth? Can you handle it? Here goes. Motherhood is amazing in its truest sense. But anyone who tells you it’s all good all the time is just bat shit crazy. Or a pathological liar. It’s supposed to have its ups and downs. It’s supposed to make you feel, like, everything. And it’s supposed to get you thinking, really thinking. Your life has changed drastically, and that is okay.
So, when your frenemy posts a delightful picture of her adorable, impeccably dressed family frolicking in the freshly fallen snow -- and you’re in the bathroom rinsing your kid’s mouth out because he decided to lick the calcium chloride on your icy steps -- just remember, that’s how it’s supposed to be. Because when he looks up and flashes his devilishly handsome smile, your heart melts and you know the whole thing is worth it.