Although I like to think of myself as more than just the events of the past two years, the fact remains – I am a mommy.
I tend to think of myself as a newly minted mommy, and although my motherhood technically began as I started growing new organs inside of me like a mobile, waddling, sexy factory, motherhood for me really began late December, 2013.
Since that time, I have accomplished a crazy amount of things. Things that looking back, I don’t know how I did with a newborn. A list would explain these things better than just a narrative form:
- I began my last semester as a Phd student
- I wrote three 25+ page papers for my comps (comprehensive exams) while:
- studying for my last class and doing homework
- working as a graduate assistant
- making sure I fed myself and bathed at least once a day (other mommies will understand the importance of showers)
- Took my last class (which I passed)
- Defended my comps
- Later on to write my dissertation proposal and defend said proposal
- Did I mention I was also working 20 hours a week?
- During the fall 2014 I collected data and wrote my dissertation while staying at home with my growing and active infant (now toddler)
- Defended said dissertation April 2015.
While some would be impressed with all this hard work, I can honestly say that the least impressed person I know is in fact, my son. That’s right. My now 16 month toddler could care less what mommy has been doing. All he cares about is that I feed him, bathe him, play with him, and let him run around diaper-less (which only happens after a bath).To illustrate this I will tell you all a story. On the morning of April 9th, I woke up prepared to take my sweet ass time showering and feeding myself, at least that was the plan. I instead woke up to a husband who forgot to print off some lessons for his substitute teacher. You see, I had
requested told my husband to take the day off weeks in advance so that I could defend without worrying about who would watch our son. So instead of my eating my breakfast and relaxing, I was now alone for a hour and a half, a hour and a half that was meant to be mine, while he went to the school and back. During that time my son woke up. Threw a fit. Didn’t want a new, clean diaper to be placed on his body. While I took a breather from his wiggling out of the diaper dance, I sat down. I was frustrated. I was tired. I was getting peed on. THAT’S right. My son can come up to me while I had my head in my hands and peed on my freaking legs. That did it for me. I started crying. This is not how I had planned my morning to go.
I managed to get the damn diaper on him and head downstairs for breakfast. Finally my husband shows up. I am not happy with him. The pee should have happened to him, not me. I jump into the shower and get ready for my defense. I had less than a hour to get ready thanks to the “wrinkle” in my timetable. I was not amused. I am a planner. This was unacceptable.
I got ready in time. I defended. We were going to a celebratory lunch. We get to the restaurant. The child is asleep in his car seat. Anyone who has kids knows to let them sleep. Instead of going inside and having nice lunch we ordered the lunch to go as I stayed in the car with the pee prince.
No matter what I do, no matter what I may accomplish in life, nothing will replace the mommy in me. My son reminded me of this that day, and he continues to do so. Sometimes sweetly, mostly with fits and tantrums. The mommy in me is learning to not plan as much. The mommy in me has learned that she has less patience than what she thought she had. The mommy in me is taught humbleness on a daily basis from a dictator half her size (almost half as he is 33″ tall and I am 68″). My son reminds me that no matter how accomplished I may be in other parts of my life, I will continue to feel like a newly minted mommy. I can bet this feeling will continue, regardless of his age. That’s the beauty of being a parent. There is always something new to knock you to the ground and make you its bitch. Parenthood.