30 Things Motherhood Taught Me

When I look back over the years... 12 years... there are countless things I learned as a mother, things that I never would have known had it not been for my three beautiful children—Hannah, Sara and Max. Though most of the lessons were wonderful and amazing, some were not easy or pleasant or, even valuable, as far as I can tell up to this point... but they are an inseparable part of me. They have helped shape me into who I am today. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.

I learned...

... the names of all four Teletubbies--Dipsy, Tinky-Winky, Lala and Po
... holding my new born baby could be thrilling and terrifying in the same moment
... my children would repeat every ‘bad word’ I said at the worst possible moments
... washable paint doesn’t mean the same as wash-off-able or wash-out-able
... I can’t compare number two to number one; they are totally different beings
... number three was a blessing, never an oops
... doughnuts are a great bribery tool
... boys may never learn to lift the lid
... all my children had to color on the walls or in a book at least once, some more than once
... that to avoid a toddler who is utterly crestfallen, crushed, disappointed and defeated and who blames me for it all, I should have taken roses to the Wiggles concert... why did no one tell me these things
... not to EVER place a bouncy seat on an elevated surface as clearly and boldly printed on the warning label... sorry Love
... it’s ok to let her wear her Sleeping Beauty ‘dress-up’ shoes and Minnie Mouse dress to the store
... even at seven he wants his mother to scoop him up and sooth him when he gets hurt at a baseball game
... to ALWAYS bring snacks whenever, wherever I go with my kiddos
... letting a baby cry themselves to sleep is gut wrenching
... bathtub crayons are an impossible nightmare to clean off of white grout
... it is OK to use the TV babysitter
... my girls couldn’t be kept away from pink, sparkly, frilly stuff no matter how hard I resisted
... the time between her first day of kindergarten and her first day of junior high was so short
... parenting by volume is difficult to avoid at times
... Biter Biscuits are soooooo messy and that I should send what was left of the box to the babysitter’s house
... not to let my child stand up in the basket part of the shopping cart, as clearly and boldly printed on the warning label... sorry again Love

... all my children had to try cutting their own hair, some more than once
... Goodnight Moon can take 30 minutes to read
... nursemaid’s elbow (partial dislocation of the elbow) can easily and quickly be fixed at home and doesn’t necessitate a 20-minute drive to the emergency room while my child issues forth endless waves of blood-curdling screams
... meandering walks lead by a two-year-old are some of my most cherished memories
... a juice filled sippy cup left in a hot car creates a huge leaky, oozing, sticky mess
... the sound of my children’s laughter and giggles is the best therapy
... the laundry is never, and I mean NEVER done
... my children love me and forgive me even when I make mistakes, even really big huge ones

I am sure it goes without saying, this is by no means a complete and exhaustive list of what motherhood has taught me. And I know without a doubt I still have many lessons yet to learn...both joyously and painfully. I am grateful for my three little chicklets and the lessons learned, making me a better me.

I'd love to hear what motherhood (or fatherhood) has taught you?

Happy Mother’s Day

Girl Power!

Did you know a female fetus develops ovaries around eight weeks gestation which contain nearly seven million eggs?!?!?! By the time a baby girl is born this number is reduced to one million and by puberty only about 400 eggs remain. Now that alone demonstrates to me a higher power... my very existence was certainly chosen if I could beat those odds!

But I also ponder the physic-spiritual-chemical-body-soul-universe link that women have with their children, especially girls... as our daughter’s carry on this link to the next generation. OK... I’ll speak clearly or at least try...

Shortly after my mother was conceived (eight weeks or so) the ONE egg which was to become 50 percent of MY own unique genetic code was there within her. This ONE egg (half of me) was carried with her for over 20 years, undergoing and experiencing the changes of her body’s internal environment.

When she had feelings of joy and sadness, anger and peace, stress, fatigue and restfulness... her body reacted chemically with each. When she learned to walk, talk, do algebra, drive a car, again there were chemical reactions occurring in her brain that developed new neural links. But the things she learned also influenced her feelings and actions, which effected her entire being. When she ate nutritiously as a small child, chose potato chips for dinner as an adolescent, or got drunk for the first time... the whole of her mind and body were effected... often in undetectable ways.

Making Amends

Part of growing up is realizing that you aren’t the center of the universe. Self-interest starts to take a back seat to self-growth. You begin to see outside yourself, outside of your small little world, wanting to share your gifts instead of just honing them. And hopefully you realize how your actions effect others.

It’s quite possible that I am just now starting to grow up, NOT old. In the last couple of years, I have begun to really deal with the things that held me back, and that which I couldn’t let go of. Too much baggage leaves us with one foot in the past. Living in the past only keeps up from living in the present, living life to the fullest. Living for the present allows us to enjoy the journey with less concern for the destination.

My baggage included a massive trunk of regret locked by guilt. As a means of letting much of this go, I have tried to look at the past honestly and accurately, sometimes admitting fault and vowing to learn from those experiences.

More often than not, I have realized that my disappointments don’t need to be assigned blame. They are just a part of life and once re-compartmentalized in my askew brain, they are merely memories I need not lament. And at this point, I wouldn't opt to go back and change anything if I could. My experiences, good or bad, have made me who I am today.

There are though, a few instances that I feel compelled to make amends for my actions. One of which included my younger brother Ray. This regret weighed on me so heavily, that for years I replayed the circumstances in my head over and over, my own form of self torture.

Growing up, my father was fairly strict. And when we were young enough, spanking was the chosen form of discipline used in our home. Now I don’t want to get into a debate about whether parents should spank or not. I happen to believe not, but when I was a kid it was acceptable and I will defend my dad staunchly by saying that he is a great man and he always did what he believed was best.

With that said, I will admit that I had a good healthy fear of spankings, as did my siblings. So much so, that avoidance at all cost reined supreme and consequently we were generally pretty well behaved, at least within earshot of our father.

One absolute commandment in our house (and I hold this one up in my own) was that we were not to touch my father’s tools without permission. Plain and simple and for good reasons that I didn’t grasp until later in life.

But you know how kids are.... they constantly mess with things they shouldn’t and I was no exception. Curiosity, boredom or just believing I might get away with it this once, lead me astray.