My recent blog “I Swore I Would Never” seems to have struck a chord with a few readers. Many of you have responded and told me how much you have enjoyed this blog. Here’s what one reader had to say:
“I absolutely adore this post. I am sitting here in our study with the hormonal tears of a pregnant woman, my toddler sleeping in the next room. In between the two rooms is the stack of Mega Blocks I nearly broke my neck on trying to get to the computer. I totally understand every word of this blog. I wish all women would read this. Especially the women like the author’s earlier self. It is hard when you are out and about with your kids having a good time and then become acutely aware of disapproving glances or downright rude stares from some young woman with no stretch marks. The worst is the obvious looking up and down of your outfit. So what if there is ketchup on my shirt? It got there because I just got the best hug ever from a two year old who just happens to like chicken nuggets dipped fifteen times each in a massive pile of ketchup. Dang hormones, typing that last sentence made me start crying again.”
posted by Great Sommelier
Thanks Great Sommelier, it made my day to know that I am not the only one and others can relate to this amazing and wonderful thing called motherhood!
Now going into my fourth year (of motherhood), I have to say that the crazy, mind-boggling and often completely overwhelming no longer seems so incomprehensible, but instead just commonplace. Over this holiday weekend we attended a BBQ, had a day at the pool and an evening with friends at our house. Each and every event was filled with kids, noise, chaos, confusion and half-finished sentences in between broken conversations. Each set of parents juggled food, spills, trips to the toilet, bumps, cries and negotiations over who did what to whom. The babies got trampled over by the bigger kids; the toys got fought over by the ones still not able to understand how to share. Only one small, uncherished item got broken, and the two bowls of food on the floor were quickly cleaned up by the collective parents.
It all was very unstructured as parties or events go, and between diaper changes and nap times, crying spells and tug of wars, we as the parents just helped, provided and attended to whichever kid needed it at the time. While I assisted my friend’s daughter with taking off her shoes, someone else held my baby. When my son wanted more ketchup while I was breastfeeding, a friend’s dad fetched it for him. Each parent took a turn with whichever youngster needed help, whether it was on the slide, in the water, getting juice or brushing off a scraped knee. It didn’t seem to matter whose child it was, just whoever was closest.
There was, however, a moment when all the toddlers were at the kid’s table and the babies on the laps of their mom’s and the food was dished out. For what seemed like a few minutes we actually all got to enjoy our food before the milk spilled, the napkins became swooshy swords, the baby started crying and the phone began to ring.
Off in the comer, once again nursing the baby, I looked at all the commotion and mayhem, saw the frazzled fathers trying to feed their kids, the burnt-out mothers eating faster than humanly possible, the kids testing the limits… even the dog was getting in on the anarchy of the situation.
Amidst it all I thought to myself…
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