My name is Mommy

"Mommy!"
"MOMMY!"
"Mooommmmyyyyy!"
"Mom. Mom. Mom. Mom. Mommy!"
"Mommy!?!?!" (with the added pulling of my shirt and at times occasional slap on the butt, enhancing the relentless "need" to his tone.) Which then engages my mommy response of the clearing of my throat, 'excuse my child we are in public' d-e-a-t-h glare stare.

My name is Mommy. I know, I'm aware it's a pretty common name. It's ok, no need to point it out.

This is the name I respond to daily, hourly, by. the. minute. Since my first born could utter the word, I have responded. In the moment of exclaiming "OH MY GOSH babe he said Mama for the first time"!!!! This haze is unforgettable. The haze of, I'm not going to cry, ok I might moment of exuberance as our first child learned the most meaningful word (to me) E-V-E-R, besides those other three words "I love you" was well, breathtaking....

However, that memory (though I do know it existed because, well it had too) my brain does not currently go back that far (aka: sleep deprivation invasion.) These days, in my 'new mommy round two' state hearing my "name," (the one I earned after fourteen hours of labor) my brain halts. It stops working. Numbs itself out. Sighs. Asks the dreaded question mentally for fear of asking it out loud, "What!?"

My brain mentally checks things off the list. "Is he fed"? YES. "Does he need to go number two and need me to watch until he needs wiped?" NO, we did that already. "Did he already go number two and try wiping himself without telling me he went number two." (Need to ask this question out loud.) "Does he want a snack, even though he just had one l-i-t-e-r-a-l-l-y five minutes ago. PROBABLY. "Can I calmly respond to his "Mommy!" with a polite WHAT? Hmmmm, how much sleep did I get?(ha).

I clear my throat, as the question "What"? comes out in a breathy, sleepy, did I not just answer to this name five minutes ago, I. am. exhausted. and we need to get groceries so do not ask for another snack because there probably isn't one, tone.

Child one answers as he bounces up and down for emphasis: "Can I have a snack,"? he asks. I stare at him. "It will be fun" he says (he will be a great salesmen someday for UTZ or Welches, he is incessant about any snack producing company) I'm still staring. "Pleasssseee" he pleads. I sigh and speak the three words that are most often in my vocabulary, "Not right now" I say. These words usually initiate 'this is the worst possible answer e-v-e-r and my day is now ruined and my spirit is c-r-u-s-h-e-d' pout. He perks up immediately after said pout and I see he's anxious, "But, but... it'd be really fun Mommy (pause for emphasis), Pleeeeaaaassse!" he pleads with his best begging tone and winning smile. I sigh again because now child two is crying, (he hasn't learned my name yet, and for him my name is WAHHHHHHHH. I respond to both; you know because I'm flexible in my work environment and treat my coworkers respectfully) "Sure, I don't care." I begrudgingly say. He lights up like he has just received the best gift. These four words of permisision always get the best response with an "OH, OK! OK MOMMY! THANK YOU, THANK YOU MOMMY! He yells as he runs to the snack drawer.

A second goes by...

"Mommy!?" (sigh...really??? I just answered a question and gave in for the hundredth time today because I am too tired to argue. NOW...pleassseee hurry the question up because I have to feed your brother tone) I respond, "What?" "Do you want a snack too"? he asks. My head clears for a moment as my heart warms it up, like a battery charging a dead tablet (mental note, we need to get batteries for his tablet)  In this moment, in the simple moment of responding to a little child who all he wants to do is to eat 24/7 (no joke) and realizing that his happiest moments are when he gets his belly fueled can simply stop in the midst of getting his most favorite thing a snack, look up and see me....the tired, not showered, sometimes tearful, exhausted Mommy. Knowing he thinks of me in his moment of glee, is ice thawing. Even though his generosity and thoughtfulness is on his terms, as food is his most important 'beginning, middle, second middle, third middle, almost the end of the day, and end' part of the day, he sees me. He thinks of me. He asks me if I want what makes him happy.

My name is Mommy. Yes, I know it's a pretty common name...

However, the "Can you help me Mommy?" "Thank you for kissing my boo-boo, its all better, Mommy" "Can I help you sweep, mommy?" "Baby needs his diaper changed, Mommy"  "Can I hold brother, Mommy?" "I need a goodnight hug and kiss, Mommy!" "I missed you Mommy" "Lets pray, Mommy" "Thank you, Mommy" "You look pretty, Mommy" "I love you, Mommy" moments of the day that make the "What"? moments worth it (and honestly make this mommy rethink the tone of those whats. They need to be sweeter, because he will not always need me e-v-e-r-y minute of every day) Even in that sleep deprivation state of mind, I need me time, sad mommy wife moments. It is worth it.

However, I understand that....

It is hard. It is tearful. It is eye opening. It can be lonely. It is life changing. It is fearful. It is warm. It is cuddly. It is moments after moments of different happenings that at times feel overwhelming. It is fulfilling. It is wonder. It is charm. It is character building. It is embarrassing. It is magical. It is blessing filled. It is hope... and forgiveness... and thankfulness... and f-a-i-t-h all wrapped up in a hospital blanket handed to you and let go of (because you are trusted...this child is yours and even the intelligent college degree earning hospital staff know this swaddled bundle belongs to you and you are to take unconditional care of this blessing, forever)

However...

Life is now different but in a mixed up sad happy confused delightful way. It is like that feeling... you may know the one...

The feeling of pulling out of the hospital and looking over at your soul mate. No matter how many times you have been in this moment, you exchange that smile of accomplishment and love along with a tight squeeze of the hand because you need that support to slap away the fear that rims your already red exhausted eyes. It is being a parent. It is knowing that even in those really hard days, the days where you can't stop crying and all you crave is a moment to pick up the phone and call that person in your life to come help you because you honestly can not take another moment of this tearful, anger filled, confused, feeling of neglect, I CAN NOT do this moments of exhaustion in the day, you (we) (I) have to remember, this is only a moment.. it will get better. These moments of sleepy, confusing, am I doing it right doubtful breathless responses of "What?" really all come down to one thing....

Those little feet who come into your bedroom to wake you up, that cry in the middle of night that needs you to feed them, that boo-boo that needs to be kissed, and that snack that they ask permission to partake of, they see you, because they need you. You are not invisible. I am not invisible. In those moments, those difficult exhausting moments were it feels as though you can not give anything more, you are noticed. You are the only one that is theirs. You are their, "Mommy". And they see you (us) (me) because you are needed in the only way they can need you; and that right there, being needed, no matter the exhaustion, no matter the questions, is a pretty great feeling.

(mental note)

"Mommy, do you want a snack"?

"Yes baby, thank you (thank you for noticing me) I will take a snack".

 

 

 

 

 

xx~Until Next time~xx