Before I had children, I knew that my future children would never talk saucy, fight with each other, watch tv, play video games, or jump on the couch when I wasn’t looking. They would certainly never roll their eyes at me or drop notes that read ‘I haet you’ down the stairs for me to find after I had sent them to their rooms. They would not draw on my wall with markers and crayons or stick kitten stickers all over the dining room furniture. They would certainly never have a noisy temper tantrum at the mall or in a restaurant. They would never lock a very pregnant me outside during a snowstorm or run away from me at the mall causing me to run with a breastfeeding infant still latched, pushing the double stroller and yelling after them like a lunatic in need of a child services intervention.
No, I thought that my future children would be perfect children. I mean, I knew they would be. They would never cover their entire face and hair with Penaten cream or flush a wind up bunny toy down the toilet and they certainly wouldn’t hide a wet pullup in their closet for me to find, weeks later.
Nope, not my children. They would only speak when spoken to and when they weren’t doing something educational, they would be practicing the piano or quietly drawing while I sipped a glass of wine and painted my toenails.
I was definitely a better mother before I had real children with opinions, and ideas, and attitudes. Before I was sleep deprived, harried, exhausted and impatient. Before I had experienced life with a colicky nursing infant (or two), before temper tantrums and leaky diapers, before midnight trips to emerg and before being vomited on-at the doctors office.
Before I didn’t know what it was like to be judged by strangers who undoubtedly thought I should never have had children.
But I also didn’t know the joy that giving life brings, how easily tears can fill my eyes from simple happiness, or the sweetness of an early morning snuggle with a little body clad in flannel pajamas. I didn’t know the excitement of cheering for my child at soccer or hockey games, or that receiving a note that said ‘I haet you’ would make me smile and kiss the angry child who wrote it. I may have been a better mother before I had children, but my real babies have given me much more joy than my imagined children ever could have. I’ve gotten used to ‘haet’ mail, and now that I have a ‘tween’ I’m getting used to being told I’m hairy, zitty, embarrassing, etc. I’ve developed a thicker skin and it had better keep on thickening because I think I’m going to need it when the teen years arrive.
Wait, what am I saying? MY teens will respect me, help around the house and NEVER cause any problems. We will have open relationships based on trust and will discuss all issues with calmness and fairness. MY teens will never think me unfair, untrustworthy, or unable to understand them. No, the teen years will be a breeze, I know it. My teens will concentrate on their studies, quietly in their bedrooms, while I sit back and relax, maybe even paint my toenails…
Great wisdom filled words! Couldn't have said it better myself!
We moms must stick together...or these 'lil bundles' of joy..may just take over the world one day! LOL
- MommasCooCoo
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