Shouldn't I have it figured out by now?

Last week my mom was in town. It was my chance to sleep in, to avoid poopy diapers, to drink more wine than I should, since I knew my mommy would take care of me and that tiny little person I am responsible for.

But I didn't sleep in.

I still changed diapers.

I did drink wine - but not that much.



I blew the perfect opportunity to recharge.
It's not that I didn't want to sleep in. It's not that I love wiping poopy butts. It's just that I apparently do not know how to take my mom hat off. I think it may be stapled to my scalp.



Is it just my issue, or do Mom's ever really take a day off?

It's not that I can't, it's that I don't know how.

Even when I have left town with Addie being cared for by Daddy or Grandma or Papa or Gramma or GG, I still find myself checking in a bit more than frequently.
A night out while she's being baby sat? I call to make sure everything is okay.
A night in? I still take a glimpse in her room before bed to reassure myself that she is breathing.

It seems an inability to not "mother" is hardwired in me.
Even when I think that I am not thinking of her, I am.
Wondering and hoping and worrying and thinking about her is like breathing to me ~ it's part of my daily routine.
It is totally unconscious, but completely necessary.

There are days when I find myself terrified by the gravity of being someone's mother.
It is my job to teach her to be a good and kind person.
It is my job to fill her confidence and curiosity and courage.
It is my job to make sure she knows how to put on her shoes, how to use a fork, how to walk down stairs and how to play nice.
It is my job to make sure she pays attention to the world and learn the lessons it is teaching.

How in god's name will I get this all done?

How will I teach her all of that and how to do a cartwheel?
Or throw a ball?
Or ride a bike?
Will I have time to teach her how to braid hair?
Or hold her breath under water?
Or how to whistle?

In all this teaching will I remember to let her play?
And makes mistakes?
And fall down and get hurt?
Will I be patient enough to not yell at her when I trip over her blocks for the fourteenth time in one day?
Will I be able to give her the freedom to mess up and disappoint me?
Will I be able to step back and watch her make a bad decision?

Ahhh, will I? Will I? Will I? Can I? Can I? Can I?

And then it occurred to me...my Mom let me navigate the world.
She held my hand tightly when I needed it, and she she gently pushed me forward when I needed it.
Because of her I know how to make a bed, read a recipe, problem solve, act silly, be kind, muster up some patience.
She put thousands of band aids on all my scrapes.
She survived dozens of emergency room visits due to my lack of coordination.
She let me climb higher than I should have in the trees, all the while hold her breath.

I survived it all. And so did she.

Addison will survive it all. And so will I.

Maybe I should not get so mired down in the checklist of things I have to teach her.
Maybe I should marvel at the fact that she can run. And jump. And climb the ladder to her playset.
Maybe I should be amazed that she knows how to share, and self-soothe, and ask for what she wants.
Maybe I should enjoy that fact that she likes to snuggle, and that she thinks books are cool, and is convinced that all animals want to be her best friend.

Instead of letting my "hardwiring" take over, I think I'll attempt to sit back and breathe and watch the wonder of this motherhood thing unfold.
Lord knows there are thousands of lessons coming my way...and I won't always be the teacher.

On occasion it will be my purple-loving, cat-kissing, puddle-jumping, mustard-obsessed, silly, goofy, loving little girl.


So Happy Mother's Day to me...to my Mom...to all the Mom's who have and are surviving the gravity of Motherhood...particularly to those of us who have taken a breath, remembered to laugh, and know that we have the most demanding, most exhausting, most incredible, most rewarding job in the world.