Mommy Materiality

No matter how hard I try to be the best mom possible, I still fear judgement from other moms when Pumpkin and I go out or when I talk about her with other women who are or will be mothers. I am blessed with a mother and mother-in-law who keep their opinions locked in a vault and allow me to make my own decisions as a mother, but I know they think otherwise when a lingering worried glance, small shake of the head or pursed lips appear before they quickly look away.

And the unending advice that comes from my friends, now mothers, albeit helpful, often remains part of the "information overload" age we live in. When in doubt, I usually revert back to what I know, the instinctual behaviors I don't question.

I hold this truth to be self evident, that all women are not created as individuals, but exist as their mothers, version 2.0.

Good, bad or indifferent, if a crazy day causes my personalized adaptation of mothering to escape on sabbatical, I can be found speaking, acting and even looking exactly like my mother.

Tragically, it didn't end there. On Pumpkin's 3rd birthday, Mimi came for a visit. While I changed a pull-up, Mimi nudged me and whispered, "She's got our butt!" I suddenly felt blind sided by Marty McFly's space-time continuum; there we stood as past, present and future representations of myself.

I wondered what use this knowledge would serve, except to reaffirm the truth: the more things change, the more they stay the same. No matter what judgements or differences in opinion come from other moms or even myself, certain other truths must also exist.

I've discovered a few that withstand the test of time, like my black maternity yoga pants, aka. Ol' Faithful. The elastic on them could survive an H-bomb if tested and they allegedly go with everything, so long as it covers my buttock region.

Mommy Truth #1: Stains are 10% circumstance and 90% sheer exhaustion.

I see them. I know exactly when they happen or around the time the saucy, chocolatey, ketchupy or cheesy morsel makes its permanent mark in the history of Pumpkin's shirt, shorts, sweater, pants or even socks. I'm just too tired to do anything about it sometimes.

Mommy Truth #2: Pay attention to what you nod & smile to.

Many of Pumpkin's daily conversations land in Why-ville and end with the "Because that's the way God made it," response. Sometimes, however, she ponders the things she already knows and will ask me the questions she just got the answers to, excited to show me what she just learned. In those instances, I pull a Queen Elizabeth and nod & smile.

Recently Pumpkin began asking me questions when she discovers I'm in nod & smile mode. A couple of weeks ago, I helped scoot her down from her little potty seat unveiling brown embellishments all over it. Apparently, I nodded and smiled to what Pumpkin now dubs her Poo-Poos Discovery Adventure.

Mommy Truth #3: Everything is in a constant state of degeneration; don't fight it.

I've spent the better part of the last four years battling with the laundry pile. Many times I retreated, waving my dingy white flag or whatever color hand towel still remains outside of the laundry room.

I battled, refusing to relinquish myself to the power of darkness that exists beyond the teeny black holes in the washing machine. For the 2 minutes I declare myself victor, a bi-annual event, I will fight off any potential contribution to a new pile of dirty laundry, replacing bibs and even socks with doubled up Brawny and scotch tape. (See Mommy Truth #1.)

Mommy Truth #4: Functional plumbing is optional.

I had no idea what this phrase even meant until I delivered a child. Nowadays, if I laugh too hard, I might as well get in line behind Pumpkin for a pull-up. This side effect of motherhood also signals the beginning of my digression back towards infancy as an older adult.

Mommy Truth #5: Shopping with child in tow rivals the spacewalk.

Hands on everything in sight, fingers pointing and questions flying can lengthen an ordinary 20 minute shopping trip into an hour long cataclysm. After the random observations made aloud that put Joan Rivers (and me) to shame, I avoid grocery shopping until the last possible moment. "Mommy, look at that lady's bootie! It's huuuuuuge like a triceratops!" Horror! Thank goodness little miss loud mouth can read my well practiced no-no face.

Mommy Truth #6: Grandparents can double as angels and demons.

Need a night out? Call Grandma. Need an extra pair of hands around the house? Call Mimi. Need a break in general? Call Papa. Need a child to tell you to take a time out while racing around, completely wound up at sleepy time? You can thank your parents for that as well.

Mommy Truth #7: Baby weight sets the bar.

I have never forgotten my record weight when I was 38 weeks pregnant, nor should I. In vain, I insisted my Ob/Gyn's nurse document in my medical chart that I weighed myself "shoes on this time," as if any ounce or two of cushion and shoelace affected my overall BMI range. Whenever my weight fluctuates, I always measure myself against that number before estimating whether or not I view my loss or gain as acceptable.

Thanks to my new post-baby bodily configuration, I can no longer reference how well my clothes fit as a reliable indication of improvement because the legs fit better than ever, I just can't button my pants. Simply put, my waistline looks like a knife cutting through bread dough that sat covered for an hour, letting the yeast rise.

No matter how awful or ugly they appear sometimes, Mommy Truths help us get through our day because more than a long, peaceful nap, we need to feel comraderie amongst ourselves as women. Mommy Truths are the glue that hold us together because whether we stay at home or work while juggling family life, we share more similarities than differences and do not stand alone.