Before I was a parent I judged. I judged a lot. I listened to how children whined
in stores and vowed that mine would have a good “thing coming to them” if they dared have that type of attitude.
I saw boys with shorts on during cold weather and wanted to take them home with me. I wondered what type of parent they had not looking out for their child’s skin on a chilly day.
I looked at houses of friends with small children and wondered why they couldn’t see the grimy dirt on bathroom walls, or manage to keep the clutter contained. What were these people thinking?
Before I was a parent, I made promises I couldn’t keep. My children would have home cooked meals each night for dinner. We would routinely bake cookies for no special reason and our Christmas cookies would ROCK! In addition, I would make sure to not be “THAT” parent who scrounges to get last minute supplies for school projects.
I vowed that my kids would be in bed promptly by 8 each and every night on a school night. They would be read to each night and feel snug in their beds before they sweetly closed their eyes and went off to dream land.
Before I was a parent, I had control issues. Blame it on my birth order, circumstances of life, being a teacher, or plain DNA. What ever its root, I needed to be in control. From the beginning of the journey of motherhood and being pregnant for the first time, I wanted it all planned out. When I had the baby, time of year, time taken off of work, blah blah blah. It all seemed so smooth. This would happen then, and life would be grand. The timetable was color coded, the mapping highlighted, and everything was on track. Then I lost the baby.
That was a time for reevaluation. The first chapter in many of the new memoir my life would become, Losing Control of the Life I Once Knew. It was an illusion. All of it.
Once I got pregnant again, my thoughts changed throughout my pregnancy. I knew it was a fragile time and I did not take it for granted that things could go wrong so quickly. I took time to put my feet up, eat healthy, and take naps. I haven’t had a nap without interruption since. That’s ten years and counting.
Before my son had made his appearance, I felt like, “Okay, I got this.” All the baby gifts were organized, the clothes put away, and the book shelf stacked. We had an arsenal of wipes and diapers. I felt the ability to breathe. We were good. We were going to hit this parenting thing full force!
Once my son arrived, I had a lot of help from my mom and my mother in law. Both had years of experience, and even though not all of what they were saying was mutually agreed upon, I appreciated their help. Our small intimate “village” was under construction. With their help, my husband and I would make it. We would survive this enigma called parenting a newborn.
Then the sleep deprivation kicked in.
*Note to those of you who are NOT parents. Sleep deprivation is no joke. It is par with Chinese water torture. Being tired is one thing. Being “Mommy-tired” is a completely different beast.
I now look back on those years pre-mommyhood and feel that I truly should have done more for the greater good with all that extra time. I surely could have started a charitable organization, donated more time for underprivileged youth, or found the cure for something.
I remember one day of sleep deprivation clearly, as it was the first official fight my husband and I ever had in four years of marriage. Remembering anything clearly from that time is in fact quite an accomplishment in its own right.
I believe it was day 30 of Camp Mommy-tired. My parents and grandparents were visiting to see our new little love bug. I was so tired, that I couldn’t even verbalize to my husband what I needed from the laundry.
Me: I need one of those things.
Him: One of those things???
Me: Yes
Him: What thing?
Me: You know the thing that I use.
Him: You use for what?
Me: FOR THE BABY!
Him: No I don’t know. You use a lot of things! A diaper? A wipe?
Me: (indignantly) NO! You know the thing that I put on my shoulder, the thing that I use!
Him: Why don’t you just tell me what it is that you need? I’m not a mind reader!
Me: I AM TELLING YOU!!! I NEED THE THING THAT I USE FOR THE BABY!!!!
Needless to say, he found the thing. It was a burp cloth. It was in the laundry, with every other burp cloth that had been so neatly folded, organized, and stacked only four weeks prior. Our projectile burping baby made quick use of those bad boys.
The lesson here is that I was so sleep deprived that I couldn’t even pull that vocabulary word from my brain. I could see the burp cloth. I could feel the burp cloth. But to put that word into sounds that made sense. NOPE. Me, a seasoned lover of words, found it hard to function. My brain was GONE.
So why do I tell you this story? Well for one, it was the first time I felt the control slipping as a new parent. I couldn’t even speak coherently. Now ten years into this extravaganza we call parenting, I have changed a lot and many other things have slipped along the way.
----First of all, my children have attitudes and are sassy in stores. I have felt the eyes of judgement at Target and Walmart. Most recently this happened when my four year old had a meltdown in the check out because I wouldn’t give her candy. Now, instead of judging those other mothers, I look at them, smile, and say “Keep going Momma! Hang in there!”.
--Secondly, my boys don’t always wear appropriate clothing when we leave the house. Unless it is wind chill advisories in our area, snowing, or sleeting I let them go without a coat. If they are cold once, they will remember the next time on their own. I can’t always be the one in charge of their choices or remembering everything for them. They need to be self sufficient adults one day.
--Thirdly, slaving over home cooked meals every night is just not always feasible for a working mom. Some nights a “Hot and Ready” cheese pizza from Little Caesar's is as good as it gets, and my kids are not going to suffer from that. Period.
--Fourthly, having children who quietly lay their heads down to go to bed after lovingly being read to, is a pipe dream. It’s that simple folks. Unless I have run them ragged taking them hiking, biking, and swimming, they are going to hop out of that bed like crickets on caffeine. They will need drinks, and dolls, and all sorts of nonessential bedtime paraphernalia that happens to come to their little child like minds. And even if I did run them ragged, they would probably cry incessantly because they are overtired. Most nights, gritted teeth and having to threaten them with losing a privilege if I hear ONE MORE WORD is commonplace and normal mommy working conditions.
--Lastly, is it a wonder why many moms don’t see clutter, crumbs, and the grimy marks? If 30 days of sleep deprivation wreaks havoc on one’s verbal skills, is it any wonder what 10 years of being entrenched in the vocation would do to one’s eyesight?
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