Mommas Like Me: Bad Momma

Have you heard it yet? They are the words every momma dreads hearing...

"BAD MOMMA"

or the ever heart breaking...

"YOU'RE NOT MY FRIEND ANYMORE"

Yes, when cuddling my sweet baby in my arms 5 years ago, I thought it wouldn't be 'til the dreadful teenage years that I would hear words like that come out of my sweet little angels mouth.

I was wrong.

Although I don't hear it often, it still cuts like a knife when I do. How could that be you little monster? I do EVERYTHING for you! I know they are just words said out of frustration...usually because of being punished...but still. It's funny how someone so little can make you feel so defeated sometimes.

But to be perfectly honest, there are days when I do feel like a "Bad Momma." Days when I just want to rebel against all my momma duties, pack my bags and run away to the land of peace and quiet. Where I can bask is the beautiful sound of silence. Where I can be with my own thoughts...heck where I can actually hear my own thoughts, and the only sippy cup that needs refilling is my own...and it certainly isn't with apple juice *wink *wink.

There are days when I don't want to build an entire city out of legos, and if my tender little foot steps on another one I'll scream bloody murder. Days when I don't feel like re-enacting entire scenes from Star Wars and getting impaled by a lightsaber over and over and over again. Days where I could really do without a 5 year old backseat driver telling me that "yellow means to slow down." Dinner times where the meal I so lovingly prepared is looked at like a plate of maggots. Days where in the middle of my shower {usually right when I start shampooing my hair} I hear the words "MOM I'M ALL DONE" being yelled from the other bathroom. Days where if I hear the Backyardigans sing one more song I just might rip my own ears off. Days where repeatedly hearing the word "why" sends a shiver down my spine. Days when the whining never seems to stop and I can actually feel grey hairs starting to form on top of my head. Days when I can feel my blood pressure rising because I don't have the energy or patience to deal with a stubborn little man who makes me want to drop to the floor and throw a tantrum of my own.

Then I remember to slow down and BREATHE. Just breathe.

I remind myself that these days are fleeting. Soon all this chaos will be but a memory.

I think back to the day after he was born when the nurses came and took him away to the NICU because he was severely jaundice. I remember how I felt 2 days later when I was being discharged from the hospital and my sweet baby boy wasn't coming home with me. I remember how it felt to walk into his nursery without him and how when I sat down in his rocking chair with empty arms I started to sob. I'll never forget the way my heart broke every time I visited him in the NICU and I couldn't "fix" him. I remember the joy the day he got to come home and how I didn't want to put him down for days.

In the NICU

I think about how soon he won't tell me that I'm the "prettiest momma in the whole world." How he's really not going to want to marry me when he grows up, and he won't want to give me a hundred kisses up and down my arm anymore. He won't want to crawl in bed and cuddle with me and let me breathe in his strawberry scented hair. There won't be any stories before bed and he certainly won't want me to sing him to sleep. He won't run to me to kiss his boo boo's or to scare away the monsters, and he won't need his chewy {blanket} anymore either. How pretty soon, I won't be "cool" anymore. He won't think its funny when I pretend to be a T-Rex with super short arms that can't reach things on the shelf at the grocery store, and he won't want me to kiss him goodbye in front of his friends when I drop him off for school.

Thinking about all this reminds me to slow down. To cherish these moments, both good and bad, and store them away safely in that special corner of my heart. It makes me want to hold onto Carter a little longer and a little tighter. To remember the way his warm little body feels in my arms. The way his little boy voice sounds when he sings his ABC's. How sweet his little face looks when he's sleeping, and how perfectly his little hand fits in mine.

Because I'm imperfect like every other momma out there, I'm bound to have many more "bad momma" days. But no matter how many of those days I have, I know that he'll always love me and I hope he'll always know just how much I love him too.

"Motherhood is the toughest job you'll ever love"