Being a mom.

The first "Mom" lesson that I had ever learned was on the day of Shane's Birth.

My stomach was randomly tightening and I was standing in the emergency room with my Aunt and cousin Stephanie.

"Just get undressed and hop onto the table" The male nurse ordered me.

I stood there, one hand on my tightening abdomen and the other clutched into my shirt. I shook my head at him. In denial.

My aunt smiled. "I think she would like for you to leave the room" she informed the nurse.

He turned and murmured "How cute. She still has her modesty."

My cousin Stephanie laughed and hopped about excitedly. She was just happy that I was down visiting her in Newark when my son decided to show his huge headed face.

I shook my head and turned to my Aunt. "I uh...I changed my mind aunty. I don't think I am ready to have a baby. Kay? I'm not ready. Lets go now."

The nurse laughed, threw a hospital gown onto the table, and retreated from my unwinnable fight.

By the time my son made his appearance and after an un-medicated birth, I was quite sure that everyone AND their mother had looked at, put their hands up into and snapped multiple photographs of my crotch. And I didn't give a fuck.

IN FACT I was BEGGING people to shove fingers into my throat via my vagina. "AM I at 10 yet? Please check. I can't handle this anymore!"

Loss of Modesty. Mommy lesson number one.

After he was born I learned all of the best spots to breastfeed. I didn't hide my breasts for myself, but for the simple fact that other people seemed offended by my decision to feed both of my children in the way God intended.

But I no longer cared. As far as I was concerned 70 % of the population had already felt up my cervix. What was a little nipple?

I could often be heard asking people "Have you never seen a breast before?!!" I was 17 years old, and even I knew that these people were ridiculous.

Mommy lesson number two.

You will never poop alone again. EVER.

And I mean ever.

I used to breast feed Shane WHILE I was pooping.

Nevermind the fact that children MUST have internal sensors declaring the fact that Mommy is going to spend time on herself...(By pooping)

You can announce it to your husband. But even then the children will become wall climbing ninjas and hardcore parcore over his head while he leans forward to scratch his balls.

When the children have disappeared he will consider himself lucky that they have gone out to play and move forward with whatever television show, household project or vehicle that he is fixing.

All the while the door that you are pooping behind will be opened, banged upon or fingers will slide underneath of it.

A good day, is a day when I can poop alone and completely. Then I feel successful. Please keep in mind my children are 17 and 11. It still happens.

Mommy lesson number three.

You must become the greatest reaction actor this side of the Mississippi.

When your child says "Look what I can do!" And they spend 5 minutes preparing for their trick. They clear their throat for this trick and all of the while you are thinking of the minutes ticking by, of all of the things that you simply MUST do.

 THEN your child will become still and perform the AMAZING trick of jumping off of the ground 2 inches and gaze at you with amazement. (You have to watch closely because IF you miss it. The time starts over.)

In your mind you say "That was it? That is what I am waiting for? Are you serious? Have I raised a moron. 5 minutes really?" But in life your body jumps and your face moves as if you have just seen the most amazing feat of exceptional body magic.

You have to gasp in shock and MOAN in awe and why?

why?

So they can repeat it again in 5 minutes that's why.

and again and again for the rest of your life.

It will at first be two inch jumps and you will perfect it with drawings of yellow lines that are the next Mona lisas.

Get used to it. It never ends.

Deprevation.

Parents are almost always deprived. Of sleep, or food or of each other.

Once when Shane was 2 months old, I found myself holding him inside of our laundry room. Rocking back and forth and declaring that I would never let the Indians get my baby.
Yeaaah. That happened.

Unfortunately for me, that did not make me sleep any more, and no matter how many times that I tried to reason with my 2 month old....he never EVER listened. So I was deprived of sleep for quite awhile.

Being a mommy is hard.

Being a single mommy is FUCKING rough.

I never asked for help, I just occasionally woke up while rocking my "indian" baby.
It turned out aight.



I want to know why moms have to feed their own children a plate and then offer them their food as well. I never did that.

That is also probably why I am so fat.

Dammit. Why didn't anyone tell me.


With money with space and with clothing.

My daughter is like a tiny Borg, assimilating all of my shiny objects into her own room. I say she is a thief, but she argues that.

I am deprived of patience.

I am deprived of shoes. Shiny ones.

I am NOT deprived of messiness though, I have that in abundance.

Kisses fix (almost) EVERYTHING.

You learn early that a mommies kiss will fix practically everything. Kids automatically think that their moms are magic. It is embedded inside of them.

I just went with it.

Boo Boos and hurt hearts are the most commonly cured, and try as they might, daddy kisses just don't work.

The only things other then kisses that work are Songs and magic gloves. Both work wonders in my house. Neither child can stay mad if you sing to them. The music should rhyme and should be sung poorly. (You should try it on your boss. it works for mine as well.)

And Magic gloves. Once Shane had a headache SO bad that he could not move. He had to JUST HAD TO pee in a cup. It was THAT BAD!

Now I know that he just liked peeing in a cup, but at that time I took the cup pissing in exchange for him staying still for 3 days on my couch.
But I digress...

Once I was tired (and sorta bored) I ran to my nearest Walmart and purchased the latest, GREATEST pair of mittens. They were 76 cents and as far as Shane knew, they were magic.

I sat infront of him on the floor, crisscross and explained to him the importance of those gloves. That they had magic knit deeply inside of them.

Hie eyes were huge and filled with "HOLY SHIT" wonder.
He slipped them on and jumped off of the couch.

He immediately did the POWER RANGER stance and I declared him magically cured.

Magic Gloves. Who knew?

Laughter cures most moments. Just Give in.

When your chips are down and you are feeling fucking low.
Laugh.
Make your children laugh with you, that is even better.

Mommy-hood requires a great sense of humor.
It has gotten me through Emmas mystery grape poop (who knew raisens plumped back up?) and Shane digging in my fishtank, killing 5 fish because he wanted to make me "Fish sticks" for dinner.

A kitchen completely powdered with flour and a small blonde boy sitting in the middle of it all, stacking cans. What do you do?

Sit right next to him and find out why he thinks that is so amazing. Build powdery volcanoes and share a bubble bath afterwards.

When Shane was 7 he wanted to stay in bed ALL DAY.

"NO! We have things to do." I declared. Standing next to the bed he was tucked into.

"We can do them later."

"No. Get up, we really have to clean and get the yard ready for the party tomorrow."

He looked all comfy and cozy and snuggly.

He smiled.

"Fine. But you have to protect me."

"Okay from what?" He giggled as I climbed under the covers.

"The shark that is swimming around our bed!" I screamed

We stayed in bed ALL DAY and told stories. We snuggled and shared remember whens. We tickled and napped and watched movies. And later, that night we both got up and cleaned.

I can tell you that I do not remember that party. I do not even know why we had it and I do not know who had come. But I do remember that day. That precious moment that became a memory.

Motherhood is all about trial and error.
Finding the laughter in the hard things, but mostly for me...it has been just giving it all up. The perfectly clean house, the organized life.

Sometimes I look around and think that I should give my children perfection. Because they deserve it. But as Emma says "Perfection is Boring."

And I agree.