It’s time for another installment. With two kids, I really need to focus on seeing the humor in everything!
These stories come from some very experienced moms who are always there to keep me afloat.
Donna, New Jersey
Earlier this year I was eight months pregnant with my third and attending Ash Wednesday services with my two toddlers (okay, if anyone needed praying, right?).
It was a children’s service at three in the afternoon, which made me feel like we were safe from worrying about the occasional outbursts and craziness.
Of course my two boys had major ants in their pants and were busy rummaging through my handbag looking for lollipops.
There was a nice family of older teenage boys in front of us with their mom—who I was constantly apologizing to—when suddenly one of the teenagers turned around and said, “Right on!”, and started laughing and nudging his brother to look.
When I turned, I noticed my two year old was standing up in the pew and licking the stained glass window behind us (it was an old and dirty scene of the Apostles fishing with their nets).
I immediately got red-faced and pulled my son away, but he jumped right back up and started licking.
By this point everyone was staring, and my oldest was now wanting to get in on the action. In a panic I grabbed them to leave and run out the door to hide my increasingly red face, but just then Father Andrew mentioned that Ash Wednesday was about all the senses—including taste. Urgh. Yes, we are that family to be sure…
One Sunday morning I was preparing to put a pork roast in the crock pot when my husband popped his head in the kitchen. “I’m going to shower,” he said. “Let’s try to get ready for church by 8 am.”
“Alright,” I said, because this gave me plenty of time.
Just then my toddler son walked up to me with “that” smell. I put my meal prep on hold and took him to his room for a diaper change. As I removed his diaper, I heard the sound of breaking glass. The now-naked toddler stayed in his room while I investigated.
I grabbed my preschooler from the shards and brought him to the room with the naked toddler, who had graciously not peed on the carpet. As long as one boy was naked, I figured they should both get dressed for church.
Clothed and clean, I left the boys in their room and swept and vacuumed the glass mess. As I put the vacuum away, I remembered the pork roast sitting on the counter.
I went to put the roast in the slow cooker as my husband came out of the shower. The look on his face said, “You’re still working on that roast?”
When my daughter was four-weeks-old we went home for Thanksgiving. She was sleeping two hours or less each night. I was beyond exhausted, delirious, and felt like I didn’t have the brain power to tie my shoes.
I had a minor meltdown and decided to go for a drive by myself.
I searched for my keys for at least 20 minutes before the major meltdown began. To calm me down my mom got me a popsicle. And what did she find in the freezer? My car keys.
There I was sucking on an orange popsicle and wondering who I’d become. Here’s what I realized: I’m not the same person as a mother as I was before. I’m not as organized. I’m slower. I’m going to be tired. My house will not be immaculate. Laundry will have to be done more than once a week. I have to let things go. And my body will look different in the mirror. This is the new me. [Editor’s note: Amen to that!]