^In case you have zero sense of humor, that last little tidbit was a joke. Please calm down.
Eight months. My man child is somehow the sweetest baby and borderline toddler every second of every day. He's learning so many new tricks, one being growling, and another is learning that the toilet bowl has water in it. If the bathroom door isn't closed, his super helpful sister is quick to guide him to the restroom and lift the lid. Of course, as soon as Mom comes around the corner, she quickly begins saying "No no no, Adam! That's uh-uh!" And seeks approval from me. These days, I really do just laugh most of these things off. Gross? Definitely. Lathered in hand soap afterward? Totally. Micromanaging my children until we're all tense and miserable? No thanks. Will I always laugh when I find my children scheming and causing mischief? Of course not. But for the love of Pete, they are everywhere, all the time, continually moving, and sometimes Mom just needs to sing along to the Backstreet Boys while she regrets not soaking the lasagna pan over night. Most of the time, this is my new life. Adam is the nosiest baby in the land. I guess I was really, truly blessed with Ella as a baby, because I never went through this with her. She never roamed the house looking for potential choking hazards. The only scary moment of her childhood was the time she accidentally bit off a chunk of the potato she was gnawing on. I have not been so fortunate with Adam. The child is explores the world through seeing what fits in his mouth. It has been EXCELLENT to help with keeping my floors clean. You know, except for piles of laundry waiting to be folded and whatever toy clutter Ella has scattered about. But when he's not on a mission to give me an anxiety attack, he's the sweetest, cuddliest (clingiest) baby in the world. Almost to the point that one night when Cody was working late last week, I yelled "NOBODY TOUCH ME OR TALK TO ME FOR TEN MINUTES!" Because I just needed my space, and I needed a minute. Nobody listened to me. That's fine. Anyway, I can acknowledge that for the first time in his life, I've hidden from Adam. There have been times that he has turned completely purple screaming for me while in his Dad's loving tender arms. He chases me around the house, and now that he bear crawls, he's hard to outrun. He's figured out the stairs, so I'm back to the days of hurdle jumping baby gates, smiling at how ridiculous I must have looked doing the same thing with my pregnant belly last year. And it kind of makes me sad, because he's eight months old and already this grown up. He sincerely drives me crazy, but I'm absolutely mad about him. He interferes with every single task that I try to accomplish. And honestly, 97% of the time when he naps, I sit on the couch and exhale. And I'm relieved that nobody is crawling or nursing or trying to choke on things or crying. And then he wakes up and we start all over, until Cody comes home and tries to find a way to ask why our house is a disaster and the same dishes have been in the sink for four days. Look bro, these humans require 100% of my energy and I was a C+ housekeeper before they invaded our house. Bear with me.
Ella Morgan is doing so well in Mother's Day Out. We've worked out a nice little system where her Dad drops her off and I pick her up. One day last week, he text me and said "No tears today!" which felt SO good to my soul. So when I picked her up, I was ready to have really deep and meaningful conversation about the details of her day, and instead, she melted to the floor and cried for 30 minutes after we got home. And then the same thing happened the next day. This last time, she only cried until we got to the car... but I still have to wonder what these people think about me. "Um, Ella cries hysterically when her Mom picks her up, but her Mom just stares at her like a fly that landed in her coffee." And it's true. I look at her with a face mixed with confusion, amusement, and annoyance. Because the first time that I kneel down and say "Sweet baby precious cherub! Fruit of my loins! Mommy's little pumpkin! Tell me what's going on here????," she's going to take it as a cue to do it every time I pick her up. I know this child too well to fall for her trickery. She won't take me down at the risk of being judged by other mothers! But in the same token, I am sincerely having so much fun with Ella. She's really figured this talking business out, and even though there's still a lot of "I have no clue what you just said," and "Huh?," and 97% of the time I'm the only one that can understand her, we're really having some beautiful conversations. I love this age... minus the whining and fits. I could do without those, but this attempt to repeat any word I throw at her is too fun. We've really hit a new point in our relationship, like, I even took the child to the grocery store with me. By choice. And we had a great, marvelous time together. She snacked on a cake pop and a lemonade from starbucks and waved at all of our fellow shoppers. I had to bite my tongue a couple of times to refrain from saying "Hey, jerk! Wave at my baby!" So let's just throw it out there... if a precious baby toddler waves at you from her shopping cart, WAVE BACK, BECAUSE IT'S PRECIOUS. I'm looking at you, Mrs. Buys Store-bought pesto.
I think what I'm really trying to say here is that I finally feel like I've hit my stride. It took eight months. But for the first time in probably two years, I feel like myself. 100% myself. Sometimes I'm so tired I go back to bed until noon on days that Cody is home, but I've stopped feeling bad about it. I've sacrificed so much of my energy and efforts on these babies, and I'm not going to give them only half of myself because I was too proud to rest. Sure, I'm wrecking my sleeping routine and I was awake until 2 AM on Saturday night, but there was no words to explain how good it felt to wake up on my own, without any help, and without tripping over my own feet to get the screaming baby out of his crib. I'm cracking jokes, wearing makeup, owning my messy house, and mothering without fear for the first time. You see, despite my best efforts, I bought into a lie that there was one way to mother. And it was exhausting. So when I finally came to the realization that the Lord loves us anyway, and gives us grace anyway, and my kids still think I'm the cheez-its.... man, life felt so much simpler. For so long, I fed into a lie that I needed to okay with being "the most natural beauty" possible, and my kids needed to eat all organic, all the time, and every moment needed to be soaking in grace and mercy and sweet, sweet love. And most of the time, I still strive for those things. But you know what? I like makeup. And I like to watch youtube videos and learn new ways to paint my face. And I like how I feel when I wear make up. My daughter has seen me with and without, and I don't think that her esteem as a woman will lie in whether or not her Mom was okay with having a "naked" face. And for dinner tonight, Ella ate blue box macaroni, and chicken nuggets probably made from a factory farm chicken, and had a juice box. Technically, it was an "Honest" juice box, but I didn't dilute it with water and I don't feel bad about it. Sometimes, my kids really just tick me off, and sometimes I don't find a gracious way to deal with it. Sometimes when I trip over a toy that they left in the middle of the floor, I yell some hybrid word between a cuss word and a fake cuss word (SON OF A BI--ppidy boppity boo!) and throw it across the room. And when I trip on it again fifteen minutes later, sometimes I throw it in the trash instead of the toy box and I don't feel bad about it. Sometimes I ignore my kids when they're whining. Sometimes I play on facebook while Ella playdoughs in the high chair. Sometimes I even tell Cody that if he doesn't come home right now, I'm going to explode and it will scar the kids for life. But most of the time, I don't do those things. Most of the time, I cuddle Ella whenever she wants to sit with me and read. Most of the time, I ignore the dishes and love on Adam when he chases me around the house crying. Most of the time, I sit in the floor and watch my kids play together, occasionally inviting me into their circle, occasionally being rejected when I don't understand whatever neurotic organization game Ella is playing (seriously, she can't be my kid. She organizes things for fun). The way I parent isn't the way you parent. Things that don't make sense to me may be what makes your world spin on the correct axis. And I think it's wonderful that all of these complexities come together to keep the world a sane place...well, in our section of it anyway.
But the truth is, you need your people. You need your tribe... and I meandered about for awhile trying to decide if I even needed a tribe. And honestly, my husband and I could probably be just fine with each other and our kids, but how liberating it is to have people that get you. I text one of my friends last week and said "I'm eating a snickers in the bathtub." and three days later, she sent me a picture of her "stash" at work. One of my favorite people in my village doesn't even have kids. But we try to get together on Thursdays and watch "Scandal" and after it's over, we sit and we hash out life. And we laugh until it hurts, and we cry together, as we go through struggles that the other couldn't possibly understand, but we feel those hurts for each other, because SISTERHOOD. One of my people doesn't go to church, and there are subjects we don't discuss together, but there's a really beautiful friendship that has blossomed through it all. We're raising our boys together and we love each other so deeply, regardless of where our hearts lie in terms of what we believe to be true. Another friend is a friend that I really only see every other month or so, but she's sincerely the most kind hearted, life giving, over accommodating person I know. I love being around her because she's just the kind of person I want to be. And she laughs at every single thing I say, so she boosts my ego. I feel like I should stop naming people in my tribe, because it's beginning to feel more like a yearbook than a blog, but I've finally accepted that sometimes your tribe forms accidentally, when something begins as a "If I don't reach out to somebody that's been here before, I will lose my crap." And then a few weeks later you're sending each other pictures of your kids doing hilariously embarrassing things that you don't discuss on the internet. And then a real friendship forms, and then one day you're like "I haven't spoken to her today and I don't love it." And also, one of the best people in my tribe is a male, and he lives in Nashville, and he's hilarious. Blake always knows when it's a bad day, and sends me a perfectly timed dubsmash to combat my day. Someday he's going to be really famous and take me to an awards show, but until then, you can watch him chase his dreams HERE.
I think that's mostly everything. Adam and Ella are the best kids I could've asked for. I could have handled a daughter with a little more "chill" and a little less "need for order." And I wouldn't have minded a son with a little more "independent" and a little less "lose my crap if Mom leaves the room to do something necessary, like urinate." But this is who they are. And they're wonderful. Here's an eight month picture from Adam. There's no picture of the two of them, because Ella said "no." So there's that.
Thanks for sharing so transparently and with such humor. I really enjoyed reading this!
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