Thinking back a moment

We were walking into church on Sunday (March 23) and Marcel had something on his face so I licked my finger and started swiping at it, vigorously. Disgusting, I thought. I told him, “your face is messy.” I wondered who his mother was. How did Marcel walk out of the house in this condition? Then I had another thought: motherhood is messy. I continue to walk into the church and memories of diapers, dirty laundry, bubble baths, talcum powder and spit-up, the messiness of my life, threatened to overtake me. During those moments when I was out of bed at 2 in the morning sitting on the bathroom floor with a hysterical child did I think this was the joy of motherhood? Where are the crayola pictures on the fridge, breakfast in bed, pillow fights, family harmony – you know, what you see on TV? But TV is not real life, Nicole – didn’t my mom tell me that when I was a girl?

Motherhood is not all peaches and cream and sometimes I don’t like it very much. People don’t know how I do it and I don’t know how I do it. What I do know is that I continue trying to find ways to grow as a person. I accept (after a meltdown) that I am not a perfect mom, but I can learn to be a perfect mom of the kids I have been given. I am messy, that the funny thing talking about the messiness of motherhood. Women are messy and complicated and hope for order, but we don’t believe we deserve it sometimes.