Who are you, and Why are you Calling me Mom?

Every once in awhile, I look around and wonder how in the world I came to be a Mom.

I mean, who are these kids anyway…? They can’t really all be mine, can they? First one kid, then a few kids and a few more…and heck, why not adopt? And then, before you know it, I’m driving a Suburban with six passengers – each with a different car seat, and sticky cup holders, full of trash and crumbs from the kids meal they ate weeks ago.  And those kids are talking and walking and demanding things like, “Feed me” “Dress me” “Watch me” “Wash me” and I swear I must have given birth to talking birds instead of children – except in a weird twist of reality – these birds actually look and sounds like me – which can be totally uncomfortable, and self reflectional – at times. Especially when these mini-me’s are ocasionally more clear headed than myself during disagreements.

Then, out of nowhere, seemingly overnight, they’re staring into my eyes, and some are even looking down at me. They’re wearing my clothes – and looking better in them than my post-baby body, every could. And somehow, it all seems totally messed up – that I met this cute guy in college one day, (that usually slept during class) and because he woke up long enough to decide I was cute in my white outfit, and asked me out… well, you know the rest. Babies! And now, those darling little brats are the ones getting all the perks?! It’s messed up.

And now my kids tell me things like, “Slow down Mom, you’ll get a ticket.” or “Shouldn’t we be making dinner?” or “I’d better study instead of dance in the kitchen, Mom, so I get a good grade.” and I wonder where they really came from. And then they begin to date, marry and have babies – and I ponder, “Is this really my life? Who are you and why are you calling me Mom?!” And I have a thought, an unforgivable monstrous thought that HITS me like a diesel truck full of diapers – that I’m sleeping with a Grandpa AND I must be a Grandma!

I’m currently finding myself in a sort of a motherland void – a transition. I’m not a cute new mom anymore, that receives baby showers and extra helping hands shooting at me from every which way. Oh no, my kids are out of the cute phase and into the awkward abyss, when teeth fall out, hair is lucky to get brushed and hormones run rampant. It’s that phase RIGHT before they start moving onto their own adult lives, and realize that taking out the trash isn’t the worst thing that could happen to them all week. My children are all different in their personalities, likes, and dislikes – but they all have one similarity; that each kid drives me crazy in new and horrible, premeditated ways. It often has me wondering if I could ever just  change my mind, return to sender, or exchange for a new career. I’m not even expecting a total return, just in-store credit for something more… fitting.

Once my friend offered to take one of my kids off my hands, because she was “So cute”. My “cute” kid not only agreed to go live with her, but also invited the rest of her siblings, announcing that they’d “Been saved, because this other lady cooks!” and the rest of the kids agreed. And I thought, “YES! This is exactly why it’s so important to stay sufficiently – insufficient, so my kids find value in leaving me to visit their friends houses, and I can have a break.

All in all, Motherhood is worth it, because in the future… the not too distant future, my kids will have darling little kiddos that put them through the same crap, and I’ll laugh my wrinkly white grandma bootie off, because it will make each and every day of parenting migraines, and cobwebby memories, worth it. It won’t matter how I came to be a Mom anymore, because I’ll get to watch my kids change their baby’s diapers with blood shot eyes, as I hand my grandkids cookies and milk. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, payback is pretty fantastic.

Love,

Janae