Tag Archives: Mommy

This is HARD.

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I totally can’t let this go.

Last week, I was visiting with some friends and having a great time.  There was me, Ronan, my two friends, and their sister with her 4 month old.  The two friends are married and pregnant, and I sometimes feel it is my duty to impart bits of wisdom that will help a new mom in ways that I was completely clueless after having my first.  You know, little things that no one remembers to tell you, and when you’re going through it yourself you wonder, “Why didn’t anyone tell me this?!”

At one point, I looked down at Ronan who was being a little pill and remarked, “No one will ever tell you how hard it is.  I mean, I had no idea how utterly and completely difficult it would be.”

My pregnant friend said, “I’m sure they TRY, but you don’t really understand what they’re talking about until you’re going through it.”

“Very true!” I agreed.

Her sister, holding her sweet 4 month old baby, said, “Yeah.  It’s so hard in the beginning.  But it’s gotten easy now.  It’s not really hard any more.”

I’m not kidding, I think I did a double-take.  Not hard any more?

I honestly can’t remember a time when it wasn’t hard.  It surely wasn’t when Ronan was 4 months old and teething.  It’s not even NOW, when he’s trying to be all independent and grown up.  It’s still hard as crap.  I still have days where I can’t believe how hard it is, and nights where I don’t want to have to deal with how hard it is.

I try to give myself the benefit of the doubt.  I still don’t get to sleep all night.  I still have to work full time hours.  My shift is horrible, and throws off my rhythm all week.  But, between you and me, I think I have a pretty good kid.  He’s even tempered, he takes good naps, he plays all alone like a pro; despite all of this, there are times when I just wish it were easier.  Today, we’ve only been up for an hour, and he’s already made me want to pull my hair out three times.

He wanted a bottle, so I gave it to him.  He took three big sucks off of the bottle, and then spit it out all over the couch.  Then he used the bottle like a pen, and drew all over the black leather in sticky milk.

I finished my bowl of cereal, but I don’t really like to drink the milk out of the bottom.  Ronan crawled over and asked for some, and I told him it was all gone.  He got mad and put his hand into the bowl and splashed it around.  I told him, “No, Ronan!  You don’t do that!”  He looked me straight in my face and started screaming.  I love a good temper tantrum early in the morning.

I picked him up and brought him into the bedroom for a nap, because it was obvious he was having a little trouble.  I laid him down, sat next to him, and started patting his back.  He laid there calmly for about 5 minutes, and then started tossing, turning, squirming and screaming.  I kept him down for about 15 more minutes before giving up.

Now, we are back out in the living room, where I put on Finding Nemo so I could have 15 minutes of quiet time.  He’s drinking out of his straw cup, where he’ll take 5 or 6 big swallows, and then he’ll spit the next two out.  Sometimes, it’s all I can do to keep my patience.

So, I don’t know if it’s her, and she’s just putting up a good front because the fun stuff is fun, or if perhaps she has the perfect baby and it ISN’T hard for her anymore… or it it’s just me, and I’m a terrible mom because I find this to be the most difficult thing I’ve ever done in my life.  And I don’t see it getting any easier any time soon.

The Identity of a Mommy.

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I have thought about this and thought about this, nearly every day since my son was born.

If someone were to ask you to describe yourself, what would come to mind?  If you had to give a one word answer, how would you demonstrate who you think you are?

There was a point in my life where I found that question simple. “I am me. Mandy.” And when I would see women driving around with vanity plates that said, “JOSH S MOM” or “MOM OF 3″ – bumper stickers that proclaimed “World’s best MOM” – I would look down upon them.  I thought it was horrible that they thought so little about who they were before their children were born, that the person they ‘used to be’ no longer mattered.  I always knew that I would never be like that.

When Ronan was born, a funny thing happened.  I spent my time with him, all of my time.  I didn’t go anywhere without him.  I took him to the mall and the grocery store and the park.  He became like another part of me – only a part that I was so proud of, I couldn’t help but show him off.  I wanted all the world to see the new bit of Mandy.  I absolutely loved every minute of being with my boy, and didn’t wish for time to be left alone.  Who wants time off from their left arm, or their ear?

Then came the day that I went somewhere without Ronan.  I was just Mandy again.  “Just Mandy.”

I.  Hated.  Every.  Minute.  I felt like I was naked, like a part of my body had been taken away from me.  I walked aMomandRonan113009round Target, and I thought, Every person here that looks at me just sees ME.  They don’t SEE that I’m a mom.  They don’t see that I’ve given birth, and don’t see the wonderful little miracle that I get to share with the world, how cute and sweet and funny he is.  They only see me. I wanted to shout out, “I AM A MOM! I HAVE A SON!”  I wanted to wear a sign that told people that I wasn’t just some other person walking through the store, I was special.  When I saw another mom that had her children with her, I wanted to say to her, “You know, I’m a mom too.  I’m part of the club.”  I still find it hard to resist the urge to point out my mother-ness.

It was then that I realized that I haven’t lost my old identity.  Mandy isn’t gone.  She’s just changed a little bit.  She’s become a little something more.  And she’s very proud of the fact that she has created a life – and that new little piece of her is worth being proud of.  I’m not Just Mandy, any more.  I’m Mandy Plus.  Being a mom isn’t the ONLY thing that makes me special… it’s just one of the sweetest things.