The Little things

We all have those days where someone we see has it way more together than we do.  It seems to me that those people are everywhere:  The woman who has an endless amount of patience with her kids.  The woman with an infant who doesn't have spit up on her shirt or poop somewhere on her pants.  (The kid's poop; not mine.)  The woman whose put an elaborate meal put together for her family without demolishing her kitchen.  The woman who cooked at all.  (My poor family has been on a steady rotation of casseroles, pasta, and grilled chicken for over a year.)  The woman who looks great after working out.  The woman who worked out at all.  The woman whose kids look cute, without dirt marks on their knees and scuffs on their shoes, without bows askew.  That woman drives me a little nuts.  

I am pretty sure I have never been that woman.  If I have been, the moments are few and far between, and I was stressed out getting there.  And my kiddo has probably been a bit neglected and watched too much television that morning to allow me to get that way.  Or she's emptied my makeup bag out while I was brushing my teeth.  Or something.

I have a tendency to concern myself with random stuff.  I clean and straighten our home obsessively, for example.  Who cares?  Brad doesn't.  Addison doesn't.  Just me.  And I want to be early or on time to everything.  That is next to impossible with an infant, let alone with an infant and an extremely independent two year old.

As a stay at home mom, I have tried to continue to have some sort of schedule to the week.  I'm a planner, and this helps me function.  I was reminded this week what else helps me function: a pal.  A mom of kids similar in age who also shows up slightly frazzled; with one of her kids still in pajamas; who, like me, carries an endless supply of Goldfish crackers and fruit snacks in her purse.  To sit while our kids raced back and forth, discussing the pros and cons of waiting to potty train when our kids are obviously ready, and what they're learning in preschool, seems to make the week a little easier.  Knowing someone else sometimes feels like they're drowning in a sea of toys and diapers and laundry makes me feel a little less lonely.  When Addison was little I had a couple of close friends with kiddos close in age.  We did lunch and coffee dates where we let the babies sleep and we put our feet and just talked.  It's been a while since I recognized the need for commiseration.  It's so important!  It reminds you that what's important is not always what's easy or what you wish your kid was doing.  It reminds you what God has called us to as moms.  It reminds you that sometimes just letting go and being with your kid is what matters.  Isn't that why we stay home in the first place?  I needed that reminder.
  
Another reminder came from one of those articles on Huffington Post about motherhood.  It was one of those pieces that made me tear up (doesn't take much these days... or ever).  I was especially struck by the following:
Our sons need to see how young and beautiful and human their mamas were. Our daughters need to see us vulnerable and open and just being ourselves -- women, mamas, people living lives. Avoiding the camera because we don't like to see our own pictures? How can that be okay?

How true!  Addison doesn't care if I'm racing back and forth around the house picking up laundry before I go get her from preschool.  She doesn't care if the library books are returned a day late, or if dinner is take out or leftovers.  She doesn't notice if her stuffed animals make it into the bed before she does, as long as they're there eventually.  And she doesn't care if she eats lunch a few minutes earlier or later, based on when Audrey is fussing.

So, I'm going to schedule more play dates for Mommy, because I know they benefit Addison and Audrey.  (And even Brad.)  And I'm going attempt the library story hour today.  We will probably be late.  My hair will be dirty and I'm pretty sure either my baby or I will smell like spit up, but I'll be there.  And I'll try to be all there.  So Addison doesn't remember me cleaning or cooking or how I looked, but instead remembers how much I enjoyed her.

By the way, Audrey is one month old today.  Where does the time go???  One more reason to slow down and enjoy the little things with my gals.

PS: it took me two days to write this post.