When my first little one was a baby it was easy to be more than just a Mother. It was easy to focus on entertaining my little man when it was just he and I. Things became difficult when two other minions made their way into our world, then became even harder to be a Mommy when all three grew older. Trying to ping-pong between the interests of three while focusing on all little ones at the same time. I found myself going through the motions of a Mother rather than fulfilling the intentions as a Mom.
As I touched upon in From Mother to Mom, I know how to be a “mother”. I am beyond capable when it comes to changing diapers, giving baths, providing medicines, fastening child seats and all the rest of it. But am I fulfilling the roll of a mom? Because a mom does all a mother can do but does it with love. A mom gives hugs and kisses, read stories, plays, tickles, listens, holds hands, teaches and protects and so much more.
In just a month my eldest will be 5 which means that he will soon be a Kindergartener. With this milestone on the horizon the taunting question of am I a Mother or a Mom is even louder. Ringing through my head as each day passes, drawing closer to when my time with Braxton will be cut in half as he attends school every day and all day.
I am at fault for just being a mother on some days but then I know that there are days when I am the best mom. When I am broken, tired and stressed it’s hard to be a mom and not just a mother. However, I’m going to toot my horn and pat my back because I’ve been pretty successful at being a Mom lately. I’ve been rolling with the punches of life rather than punching back. I’ve been shooting from the hip rather than following the rules. I’ve thrown expectations out while hugging and caressing the chaos of my children. I’ve been so Mom-like I’ve held worms in my hands with chalk on my face and yogurt smeared on my pants. I’ve been screamed at and slapped only to look my little offender in the eyes and ask for a hug rather than screaming back or dishing out timeouts. My kids have acted up in public and pooped at the park with the diaper bag left at home, but taking a cue from Jay-Z, I brushed that dirt off my shoulders like a pimp.
Instead of my kids thinking Mommy be cray-cray because she is screaming about crumbs on the ground and Legos covering every inch of the living room, they think I’m cray-cray because I died their food green for every meal on St. Patrick’s Day. Mommy be cray-cray because she let us eat donuts. Mommy be cray-cray because she read us 15 books in one morning. Mommy be cray-cray because she played Crazy Eights five times in a row and won all five times. Mommy be cray-cray because she spent two hours building a Lego truck. Mommy be cray-cray because she lost three times in a row at “Who Shook Hook?” Mommy be cray-cray because she keeps kissing and hugging us.
So F-U Mother, this Mommy be cray-cray 🙂