This past spring, my oldest daughter hit double digits. They say kids grow up in the blink of an eye, and wow are they right. A lot has changed over ten years. Yes, my baby girl has grown into a wonderfully sweet and talented young lady, but more than that, perhaps, are the changes I have seen in myself. So, in honor of my momentous Momma-versary, here are ten ways in which motherhood has resulted in a vastly different me.
- Parenting “by the book”. In the course of nine short months, I read every single parenting book I could get my hands on. I knew everything there was to know about being a mom. And then she was born. And I realized that I knew nothing. Kids, by their very nature, aren’t “by the book”. Our sweet little girl was no exception. Being a mom is a learn as you go, what works for them may not work for you type deal. Until someone writes What to Expect from the Ringo Children, I am done buying.
- I can(‘t) do it by myself. Ten years ago I struggled with this one. Big time. If I had gotten my way, my daughter would never, ever have been left with a sitter. EVER. It’s not that I didn’t trust other people with her. It was, rather, the intense feelings of guilt that I carried when I did. I fed her, I bathed her, I changed her diapers, I put her to bed. That was my responsibility as her mother. And heaven forbid I shirk my responsibility! These days, the guilt is gone. I have realized that I don’t have to be the one to cook every meal or clean up every mess. More often than not, the kids are just as happy to see me go as I am to leave. And even if they are occasionally sad to say goodbye, well, don’t tell them, but that’s okay by me.
- Plans? Who needs them? I have always been a planner. I love a good list and thrive on a schedule. Unfortunately for me, my kids don’t. From day one, despite our best efforts, my daughter has rejected every attempt to get her to settle into any type of a routine. And, as each of her siblings came into our lives, it has gotten progressively harder to plan much of anything. Inevitably, a day that I think is perfect for the zoo is the exact day they feel like staying close to home. And vice versa. Flexibility is my friend. I’ve learned to leave the schedules for the big stuff (family vacations are difficult to plan on a whim) and take the days one at a time.
- Be prepared. I could write an entire post just on this topic. In my early days of motherhood, I had the What to Expect of diaper bags. There were extra clothes and diapers in both our cars. I never went anywhere without a day’s worth of food and drink, just in case. Over the past ten years, my diaper bag has become a bit less organized. I almost always have diapers. And there is inevitably a squooshed granola bar or two in there somewhere. But appropriately sized clothing? The likelihood has dwindled over the years. Not a big deal, when you consider the fact that I habitually forget to put the diaper bag into the car when we leave the house.
- Enjoy the good moments, forget the bad. I don’t know how many times I have been told to cherish every moment I spend with my children. They don’t stay little forever. You’ll look back on all this and smile. But there are some things that I would rather forget. And, over the years, I have learned that this is okay. It’s perfectly acceptable to forget the bad stuff. It leaves a little more room for the good.
- Not every battle is worth fighting. Ever try to argue with a child? It’s not easy, and more often than not it doesn’t end well. Ten years ago, it would have killed me to let my kid put three eyes on their stick figure. Or build an obviously flawed block tower. And far be it from me to allow one of my children to leave the house in clothes that didn’t match. After many, many hours spent trying to explain to them why I was correct regarding these matters, I have thrown up the white flag. I let them do their own thing in these smaller situations, and save my energy for those more worthy of my efforts.
- Being dorky for the sake of your children is actually super cool. I was a lot more reserved ten years ago, at least in public. I was very aware of other people around me, and of what they may or may not think of my actions. Fast forward to today. I flat out don’t care. If my kids want me to play dinosaurs and chase them around the playground roaring at the top of my lungs, I do it. That absolutely lovely macaroni necklace they made me? Yeah, I’ll rock that. Everyone else might see me as crazy, but to my kids I’m a hero. And that is way more important.
- Dirt don’t hurt. When my oldest started moving, I panicked. The appeal of the mud puddle is astounding. I had baby wipes EVERYWHERE. In the diaper bag, of course, but also in the car, and the living room, and the dining room, and the kitchen, and our bedroom…you get the idea. I would even slip a small bag of them in my pocket whenever we went outside. I think my daughter went through 5 outfits a day so great was my fear of the smallest smudge. Ten years later, I love dirt! To me, dirty kids are happy kids, kids who have played hard, had fun, and enjoyed a day in the sun. And if that means an extra bath at the end of the day, well, I’m good with that.
- A messy house doesn’t reflect sloppy parenting. In the beginning, I used to spend the better part of my day picking up after my children. As our family grew, so did the mess, and I was killing myself keeping up with the chaos. However, my kids don’t care if their toys aren’t placed in the appropriately labeled, color coded bin. So why, then, did it matter so much to me? Ever heard the saying “good moms have sticky floors, messy kitchens, piles of laundry, and happy kids”? They were talking about us.
- Being the perfect parent. Its impossible. Plain and simple, end of story. We are all much happier now that I have abandoned all hope of this ever happening.
There you have it. Ten years lived, ten lessons learned. And, I am sure, many many more to come!
