What does that llama have in common with this mama? Find out:
We spend a decent amount of time at the park. The boys can’t get enough of the slides, the swings, running around like wild animals, and playing with their friends.
I enjoy getting some fresh air and seeing my mom-friends.
The other morning we were hanging out with a good size group of kiddos and moms, and I asked my friend why she had some extra kids with her. She said, “Oh. Those are my friend’s sons. She’s at the dentist. Alone. With out her kids. Lucky B***h.” (I mean, I can’t even argue that an hour alone at the dentist sometimes seems like it might be more fun than enduring 25 toddler temper tantrums per day, and your kid thinking that you’re the worst mom ever. A break is a break, right?!)
Then, my boys wanted to go on the swings. We walked over to the swings, and the mom next to us was telling her little baby, “Oh you just love swinging. Swinging is the best. You’re a little swinger.”
Another mom was walking around yelling after her kid, “Give him back his balls. They’re not your balls. You don’t take balls from anyone.”
These are intelligent grown women, walking around talking like this. It seems like they have given over their every last brain cell to their offspring (myself included!) Is it just me, or does motherhood fry your brain? Fry your whole entire being of who and what you used to be?
Don’t get me wrong, being a mom is the only thing I’ve wanted more than anything else in life. My kids are my life. They’re the people I would rather spend time with over anyone else. But sometimes I just don’t recognize myself anymore. I can’t possibly be that woman with one kid on her hip, and the other laying down in the parking lot, refusing to walk to the car, because he’s mad that we have to go home for lunch.
There are days that I catch a glimpse of my reflection in the mirror…my eyes will meet with the woman in the mirror, and I actually scare the daylights out of my own eyeballs.
If my pre-children self saw me now, Lord help us. I know she would have some serious questions for me:
Why hasn’t she brushed her hair today?
Why are her nails a mess and un-manicured?
Why do her eyebrows look like a small squirrel has taken up residency over her eyes?
Why is she dressed like a homeless gym rat?
What are those huge dark circles under her eyes?
Why isn’t she wearing any makeup?
Why does it seem like she doesn’t care about what she looks like?
Why can’t she speak in full and coherent sentences?
The answer is always: Motherhood.
Wanna know a secret? I wouldn’t have it any other way.