MaMa MaMa

 

 

It’s 3AM and my baby boy Jack does not like the well intentioned sleep advice we’ve tried. He first calls out in a sweet question, “Mama?” and then gradually that sweet question turns into a wild hysterical scream.

I am certain my neighbors are now awake.

It could be his stomach. Lay him on his stomach. Maybe he has allergies. What are you feeding him? Maybe he’s hungry. How much is he eating??? Maybe he’s hot. What does he sleep in? It could be his teeth. Forget those gels. Whiskey, rub his gums with whiskey. Whiskey? I’ll have some of that whiskey myself. 

As I write this I am aware I have a very real case of sleep deprivation. I remember thinking the yoga pant wearing mom without make-up and frizzy hair strolling her kids down the street seemed to be making it harder then it had to be. Why would I think that? Well, for starters I’ve come to realize that we often define ourselves by who we don’t want to be. Nobody really looks at yoga pant wearing mom and says, “I want that.” So without fully realizing it, I did what so many others do and decided Yoga Pant Mom must be doing something wrong.

I am now Yoga Pant Mom. Sometimes I wear jeans. I almost always wear frazzled these days. 

The thing is there is an undeniable force of nature at work in mothering. It is a very physical and emotional job. Your limits are tested regularly. Next time you see Yoga Mom try to see her as the contributor she is. Lets acknowledge the cycle of our lives and the communities we build up one strong little baby at a time.


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