So the other day my Mom asked me a very pointed question about motherhood. Nevermind that it may have been a thinly veiled attempt to probe my openness to bearing any more grandchildren for her. It has bounced around in my head several times since then. I think the main thing that gave me pause was that I felt I should have had a different answer than the one I had.
So what was the question you ask?
"Is motherhood everything that you thought it would be?"
My answer: simply "yes".
Maybe I am just more practical than most and didn't enter motherhood with any stupid ideas of idyllically rocking sleeping babies with my perfectly coiffed hair and satin dressing gown. It was probably just the way that I was raised. I knew what it was like to be a mom. It meant that everybody else's needs came way before yours. In fact you were probably so low down on the totem pole that the only time anyone ever made a consideration just for you was Mother's Day or your birthday, and even then, probably after you had been up all night with a teething or vomiting little one, feel perfectly dreadful about the baby weight and how you can't fit into any non-stretchy clothes anymore, and the last thing you want is people looking at you or giving you cake to eat. (But YAY, here's to you!)
Needless to say, I expected it. (Maybe not the extent of the baby weight, but I expected it). I knew that having a child and being a good mother meant daily laying down my wants and needs and emotions. He demanded that. You can't talk down a fussy 2 year old with your own complex emotions! HA! I'd like to see you try! Nevermind, none of us want to see that... enough evidence in the grocery store check out line. You can't eat healthy and exercise when he's there demanding you read him books and feed him an endless supply of cookies and chocolate milk. And lets be honest, you are going to be too tired for that stuff anyway by the end of the day running after this endless ball of energy. (Mommy didn't get to take a nap today like you, be kind kid!)
Now to be perfectly fair, I may have gotten off lucky with my little man too. He was by no means a particularly hard or fussy baby. He still had his moments when try as I might nothing could get him to calm down, spit up an appropriate amount at in-opportune times, cried when I left him at daycare, spread poop from one end of his room to the other, and the usual. But for the most part he's a pretty chill guy. I would like to take credit for raising him to be a tough little trucker. When he falls down or bonks on something he's not one to burst into tears, especially if he is busy playing. He'll likely just get up and run off for another adventure. Truthfully though, I don't know whether to credit that to nature or nurture.
Is motherhood full of those precious snuggly moments though? Oh my goodness yes!! I CANNOT even tell you how good it feels to snuggle up next to this little guy on the couch while he is watching his Lego Movie for the umpteenth time. The hugs, kisses, and "I love you SOOOO much!" and "Nkwaggala nnyo!" (because our love is so big one language can't contain it) that we say to each other every night before bed. The way he runs up and tackles my legs, yelling a happy, "Mommy!" when I pick him up from preschool. Tickle fights on the floor. Hide and seek/jump out and scare somebody are pretty great too.
I love to see his little mind turning with thoughts and when he pulls a new random word into his vocabulary. He's simply a star at singing at the top of his lungs in the car (I think he got that from me). My personal favorites are "Skinnamarinkydink" (or however you spell that) and when his sweet little voice belts "...I'm a child of God, yes I am" (from Hillsong's Who You Say I Am).
He is the perfect little cheerleader, always quick to say, "We did it!" or "Good job, Mommy!" Although some of that is slightly unfounded (I don't ACTUALLY have the power to change traffic lights from red to green... but we'll let him think that for a little while longer.)
There is also a simply beautiful feeling when I watch my husband being "Papa" to little man. Oh my goodness it nearly melts my heart! The way they interact and laugh together. Them dancing in the living room to Ugandan music beats or running around the yard together. I don't know if that technically falls under motherhood, but I'm pretty sure I wouldn't feel that if I wasn't a mother, so we are going to count it.
But even with all that, I felt like I should have said no to her question. Like I should have been expecting something different than what I got. Most people I hear of do. They don't expect to have their lives monopolized by their tiny creation. They don't expect to lose their figure, their sleep, and a strong grip on their sanity in one fell swoop. But I had no such naivety. Perhaps that is why my husband and I reacted so differently to the news that we were to become parents. I knew what motherhood would require of me. I knew that the rewards would be beautiful, but I knew that the loss would also be real.
Worth it?
Definitely.
But not to say that I am ready to do it all over again Mom. That jury is still out. ;)
