I’m a Mother…Which Means…

I’m a Mother…Which Means.

That I will hide in the bathroom with my smart phone just for ten minutes of peace and quiet.

My meals sometimes consist of children’s food staples – chicken nuggets, apple juice and mac and cheese. Not the sushi or turkey/bacon/avocado sandwich from Subway that I would prefer. This is why eating out is a big, big deal.

My friends and I have conversations in ten minute increments because we are both chasing our children around.

I regularly have food splatter somewhere in some piece of clothing, everyday. And it isn’t food that I was eating.

I can sleep when there is a garbage truck banging trash cans around right outside of my home at 4 a.m., but I can’t sleep through a child calling for me.

I sometimes have to choose between a nap or a rerun of “Friends.” And this is a very hard choice.

I know where every child’s shoe, Lightning McQueen toy and sippy cup are in my house…and for the life of me, I sometimes cannot find my own hairbrush.

I do dishes at 11 p.m.

Sometimes, time to myself and out of the house means that I’m just at the grocery store at 8 p.m., by myself. This is a very, very good thing.

I can’t remember the last time I slept ridiculously well.

There are toys in my kitchen almost all of the time. On the counter…on the floor. Once, in the oven.


That I don’t get to blow dry my hair hardly ever after a shower. I’m lucky that it is even brushed some days.

That you may show up at my house at one in the afternoon and still find me in my pajama pants.

That you may show up at my house at one in the afternoon and find my children crawling and running around only in a diaper.

That you will most definitely show up at my house at one in afternoon and find my house in a state of chaos. Unless there are cartoons on. Or the kids are sleeping.

That I’m sometimes the last person to sit down and eat a meal.

Sleeping until 9 a.m. is sleeping in.

That sometimes I get silently irritated or even laugh to myself when I hear about or read on Facebook about how “tired” someone is, or how long and rough their days were. Mostly if those people don’t have kids yet. I’m not a hater. Just being honest.

Things that never bothered me before now drive me nuts. Bad drivers, violence on television or bad politics.

I know how to, and would go without if that meant that my children could go with.

I silently think to myself, “just wait until you have kids…”

Now I understood what they meant when my parents told me that they loved me so much that they would die for me if need be.

I have several fire escape exits planned should there ever be a need.

The realization that there are children suffering in this world, children going without or children who aren’t loved, valued or appreciated breaks my heart and profoundly confuses me.

I understand why people want to have children. Lots of them.

I know why those moms at the grocery store, with three children piled in her shopping cart, looked so frazzled to me before I was a mom.

That I have a slightly more experienced or seasoned point of view than people without kids. Sorry, but this is the truth.

On top of that, if you don’t have kids, I probably might disregard the advice or dirty looks that you give me. The only childless person I would ever take advice from in these cases are Jesus and licensed medical doctors. That’s about it.

That birthdays just aren’t as big of a deal for me anymore. It’s the kid’s birthdays that count. I’m past the stage of planning stuff for myself. Unless it involves food, then I’m all over that.

There are times when people are staring me and my children down when in public that I’m tempted to put my child in their shopping cart,

or restaurant booth and say, “here, you think that you can do better??”


That I understand the point of view of the overprotective moms/parents in all of those movies where I normally identified with the child. (Little Mermaid? The Lion King? Honey, I Shrunk the Kid!…wait)

Pretzels in my makeup bag. That is all.

That it probably takes me several days to write one blog post. Much like this one.

That I have spent a combined total of hours in front of the mirror, mourning my pre-baby body that has gone. Because it does take some work to be ok with how you look after having children.

That I am never off duty, and probably won’t ever be for the rest of my life. I know this because I look at my mother, who will run to the store for me, babysit, drive my hive covered daughter to the hospital and sit with us for 5 hours just because she’s my mom.

I now understand the place of faith and hope in life.

I understand knowing that you will love someone, no matter what they do or who they become.

I understand the feeling of indebtedness. Of knowing that you have to push through, you have to keep the faith. You have to do well for them and by them.

I know that one day, I’ll miss the noise and the chaos. And I’ll silently wish for it back.


3 thoughts on “I’m a Mother…Which Means…

  1. Nicole Keener says:

    I absolutely love this and it is so accurate. Now I hate grocery shopping again because I am car less and when my dad in law gives us a ride the whole family usually tags along. *sigh*


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