So— What prepares you for being a mommy, Mommy?!
“The expected is what keeps us steady. It’s the unexpected that changes our lives forever.”
— Shonda Rhimes
So— What prepares you for being a mommy…
It’s that time of year again— another March another madness on the horizon. But maybe just maybe this year this March Madness has come early and come in the amazing sense of the word…
Same parochial elementary gymnasium again, afterhours on a Monday school night— an hour set to the antiquated score clock—twice, for each 60 minutes of intramural hoops and pretween blood, sweat and tears (theirs and mine).
I was prepared for bleacher butt and nail biting and the angst all mommies feel when they spectate, cheer, hope and pray for the best and fear the worst and practice their “it’s ok if you lose” speech in their heads. All the while hoping they will not have to use it.
The rhythm of the dribble in steady beat with my heart. The one running inside and outside my body.
Rewind…
Last week when it was still February and we had one insignificant snow fall very late in the winter and a two hour delay to school, a lightbulb went off in my son’s head.
My little one who is still little in his age but his depth is much greater. It’s wild that I created not one but two old souls. Little men with big hearts and thoughts. Yes, sometimes they get too big for themselves and my lightbulb goes off. Reminds me I need to remind them of the here and now — “gentlemen refreshers”…
So my little one was mid-breakfast bite when he stopped and looked at me and said “I get why the grades go up — they prepare for the next grade that follows. Like I went to pre-K last year because it was pre-kindergarten and now I’m in kindergarten. So kindergarten is pre-first grade—
Right mommy?!”
“Right!” I simply answered.
It felt so uncharacteristic of our typical chats. Like I should elaborate but he got it. And there wasn’t much more to say— right? well until he asked me this…
“So what prepares you for being a mommy?!, Mommy???”
Pause…
I spent the last 24 hours taking his first elementary school snow day superstitions seriously :
· Wore my pjs inside out✔️
· And backwards✔️
· Slept with a silver spoon under my pillow ✔️✔️
And awaken to a 2 hour delay.
My little one now believes in all kinds of magic, the tooth fairy, Santa Claus and any other mysterious and mystical creature all because we get a snow day— well sorta— but this question was having me seek out an answer not at my fingertips…
What does prepare you for being a mommy?
What prepared me?
Am I actually prepared?
Rewind again…
Almost a decade ago I didn’t have the title that I have now. I didn’t have an emergency blue card with my name on it. I didn’t even know my blood type. I had a growing belly and growing heart. I was green as the red would appear on my little ones heads. Unmistakable.
I didn’t really read “What to Expect” cover to cover because the way they explained motherhood was like a script out of Ally McBeal. Everything was larger than life as this other larger than life experience was happening. And ironically even though when you are pregnant there is another life inside of you, you are actually all alone. You feel all the feels singularly. Internally you are changing and externally other can observe the obvious. The kicks and pains are different to you than the hands who hold yours or caress your bump and baby. They, too, feel larger than life. And you can’t really ask your baby if they remember the time when…
I was prepared to a point— well sorta:
· Took my vitamins✔️
· Went to all my prenatal appointments✔️
· Ate healthily✔️
· Prepared the bag and the room and all the things that were on the list✔️
· Found the pediatrician early and stayed away from feta, sushi, alcohol, and boars head turkey✔️
· Even picked out his name— twice…✔️✔️
But that doesn’t prepare anyone for being a mommy — being a mommy prepares you for being a mommy— well sorta…
It’s as confusing as it sounds.
Is the preparation of motherhood finite?
It’s not.
It’s an evolution.
I’m always in preparation mode.
It’s the anticipation of the possibility of a divergent path that I must prepare for which direction chosen.
Nothing actually prepares you for motherhood until the one time you are unprepared and vow to never be again.
Rewind again, again…
It was my first rodeo, 4 months in. I was at my now older son’s well visit. I had packed the diaper bag 3 weeks in advance if not 3 months:
· Extra clothes ✔️
· Wipes ✔️
· Diapers ✔️
· Toys ✔️
· Books✔️
· Hat ✔️
· Socks ✔️
· Pacifier ✔️
· Miscellaneous other items ✔️✔️
The night before I had cleaned and sterilized the bottles for the millionth time and filled two with filtered water and the formula power in the tri-pod container and left it next to the diaper bag.
Maybe I got some sleep that night maybe not. Sleep is still a luxury— 10 years later… so there’s that.
That morning while I cooed and cuddled my little bundle of baby love, while simultaneously getting us both dressed for a day out, I then carefully packed him into his car seat and his diaper bag into the car and off we went to see how he was growing and changing.
I prided myself on making this appointments in between his bottles and naps( or car snoozes), so he would never be hungry or overtired. I liked the feeling of this precaution and preparation. I would like to think he did, too.
While we waited for our favorite pediatrician and I held him and we sang and looked around the bright and cheerful room that carefully hide the “scary stuff” I remembered as a child— he began to make that sound. You know that sound were they start to appear— something. New mommies can’t put their fingers on. Hungry, tired, fussy, all and none of the above.
We sang more and I read board book after board book from my overly prepared diaper bag.
Nothing was working and the sound became a whimper and then a cry, full blown cry. It echoed through the room and down the halls and nothing in the cheerful room was going to cheer either of us up.
Lightbulb went off— he’s hungry. I looked at my watch and for some reason it was feeding time again. It was always feeding time in the beginning and now it’s always snack time.
How did it go so fast?
No worries. I got this.
I unzipped my fancy diaper bag that was now my carry-all to find the one thing I needed the most wasn’t there...
The bottle.
The cries were a SOS to our favorite nurse who arrived at the door for much more than height, weight and head circumference. She came with tissues for me, formula and the most magnificent looking bottle.
· I mixed it ✔️
· Shook it ✔️
· Let the bubbles settle ✔️
· And fed my baby ✔️✔️
And we both finally stopped crying.
That day I learned preparation is what you do to an oven when you are making a recipe from scratch.
You can never fully be prepared for being a mommy…
There will be curve balls, plot twists and detours.
There will be tears of joy, tears of pain, belly laughs and belly aches.
Moments that will ignite your heart and moments that will leave you heartbroken.
Just when it makes sense it doesn’t.
You will strive daily to be the heroine of your family, but when you say no you become the villain, even if no is the only choice.
When you are a mommy you aren’t thinking singularly anymore but globally. In your own world and the greater one around you.
So how do I explain this to the one of two reasons for this question? My sons…
Play…
1:23 left on the antiquated score clock in the second of two 60 minute late night basketball games. My son had almost played 2 hours of hoops. He was exhilarated and exhausted. And everything in between. We all were. Not me. I was getting prepared.
I knew how much he wanted to make another basket. Watch the orange ball do a tango with the white string again. For his team and himself. I was praying so hard to any god at this point. It actually had nothing to do with religion...
And then ironically as the clock read 1:23 he was passed the ball and 123 it went in. He scored, we screamed— I defy anyone to say I didn’t scream the loudest.
Not for the shot but the significance of it.
He was prepared that night to make it. He packed everything with him. Forgot nothing and it was the sweetest dance of ball and swoosh.
My little one got to stay up late to watch his brother play and be successful. He was so proud of him. My husband, too. Everyone was. Because all my son ever wanted was to get that same feeling he got the first time. We were all rooting for him. He was his own Cinderella story this season.
Being a mommy, regardless of how many times you become one — the feelings are exhilarating and exhausting. You feel on top of the world and completely unprepared. And everything else in between.
My boys were prepared with the wicked combination of love, science and magic.
As for me… I am forever a work in progress…