I marvel at motherhood. There are so many weird emotions attached to this position in life. How is it possible to have a little person show you how much you can love, but also show you all your impatience and gunk?
I remember hearing Mothers joke about hiding in the bathroom. I never fully understood why they hid there. I mean can’t you just make your kids go play in another room?
Toddler in another room… ha… in a perfect world.
I understand now.
Holden loves his Mommy. He loves his Mommy so much he wants to be at her feet… ALL THE TIME.
It is bad enough that he is a morning person, and I am not, but when you add in the constant contact… sometimes Mommy needs to step outside and take deep breaths.
By the way, forget using Lamaze breathing techniques for labor, they should also inform mothers that this breathing will come in handy when you actually have to care for said child. Like when you want to scream and pull all your hair out because your child hasn’t let you put him down all day… even when you had to use the restroom.
Sure, I love having cars driven all over my face at 5 am. Or trying to finish my Bible study while Holden attempts to steal my pen to write on my book or when he repeatedly dives in between my back and the couch.
I mean love being his personal jungle gym. I love that he holds onto my leg and pulls at my shirt yelling “MA!” while I try to cook because he wants to be able to see what I am doing. I love getting my feet run over by cars or stepping on a lego that appeared out of nowhere. I love having to constantly step over the red Lightening McQueen car that Holden rides everywhere… Or saving Holden from certain death as he attempts to ride said car on the couch, on the bed, on the table, into my legs…
There have been days I have been so tired I have taken a pillow and laid down on the floor in his room hoping he would just play around me, and I would be able to rest a little.
Oh if only…
Holden’s response to this was to repeatedly sit on my head and slide down the front of my face. After this got old, he grabbed a book and used my face as a pillow while he pretended to read to me.
Most of the time I can handle all this, but sometimes a little switch goes off in my head and I just want to scream…
Don’t touch me.
Please don’t touch me. Don’t come near me. Don’t even look at me. My head might start spinning in circles soon if anyone even comes close to my personal bubble.
Who is this Shelbi? I mean how terrible a person do you have to be to want to tell a 1 1/2 year old… who just wants to play… to leave you alone? I have actually imagined fire coming out of my ears and fingers. I believe this is what we Mothers call a temper tantrum.
So this is my confession: I, a full grown woman, have had to fight the urge to throw a tantrum in front of my toddler.
It is when I hit these points that I sometimes almost take out my impatience on the unsuspecting public. I swear I have fought the urge to hit someone for rubbing up against me at the grocery store. Or had to count to ten before acting on my urge to ram my cart into the person hogging the entire grocery aisle I was trying to go down.
Note to self: Do not try to grocery shop under duress.
On the days Mommy is kinda losing her mind… she begins a countdown for when Daddy gets home.
Sidenote: Heaven help Daddy if he is not home at the time he is supposed to be home on these days. I do not care who died or what accident happened on the freeway, I need relief. Poor husband with crazy wife…
When Daddy comes home, I imagine this is where fairy tales get their “knight in shining armor saves the damsel in distress” story line… Except in this fairy tale the damsel throws a baby at the knight and runs to Target.
Kidding. Sort of.
Daddy does help the crazy leave Mommy. Daddy takes the baby to play outside for awhile, brings baby in for dinner, bathes baby, and then brings baby back to Mommy for kisses before bedtime. Holden loves when Daddy comes home. Mommy loves when Daddy gets home.
But a strange thing happens after Mommy gets her alone time. It is about ten minutes after we have laid Holden down that I realize something…. I desperately miss my baby.
So I sneak into Holden’s room and check to see if he is sleeping soundly. I rub his little back. I fight off the urge to scoop his little body up and take him back to bed to cuddle with me. I yearn for his little arms to be around my neck or for his little voice to be yelling “MA!” in between kisses. I wouldn’t even mind a car race on my face.
And this is when I realize…
I am bipolar.
Motherhood has made me insane.
And all I have to say is…
Oh beautiful insanity… I embrace you.