4 years

plus 41 weeks plus 1 day

4 years ago today, I became a mom. Well really, 4 years plus 41 weeks plus 1 day ago, I became a mom, but today is the day we celebrate.

There are so many different things I can write about on this sacred day. The birth story. The early moments looking into our new pineapple’s eyes. Or how I was and still am obsessed with his hands, and how that tiny part of his body says so much about who he is. The sweet and wild child that is my son. Our adventures together. I could spend the next 59 days writing stories about that kid.

But what has really been on my mind is how when the day came that I brought life into the world, I earned a new title, a new identity, and a whole suitcase full of expectations for myself. I suddenly had a new mission in life.

But what about the other missions? That’s the thing that has always stung me about this role that so many of us wear with pride, exhaustion, wonder, superhuman powers, immeasurable love, and stress and at times resentment. Motherhood is without question the most complex mission one can take on. Do not fight me on this. I am aware that lots of people work hard and they do lots of incredible things and sometimes they even build products and businesses and spaceships that feel like their own children. And supposedly it’s tough for dads too. But it’s just not the same thing. Not even close.

In order for it to be exactly equal, we would have to live in a bubble where we completely ignore societal inputs and expectations, and the stereotypical “oh he’s such a good dad” comments if he hangs out with the fruit of his loins sometimes unattended. I know that some fathers are very involved and aim at as much equality as possible in their own households, and that some work very hard to provide financially so that mom can work a little less. I suppose that deserves a pat on the back.

But that’s not even the issue.

As I write this I’m asking myself what I’m even perturbed about, because I honestly don’t care how each family decides to set up their home and raise their kids. I’m not arguing for absolute equality. I also don’t want this to come across as a complaint about mothering a child who I love dearly. But that is the point. Some may read this and think if being a mom is so hard, why did she decide to do it? I don’t know man, if climbing Everest was so hard, why did you decide to do it?

Here it is in a nutshell. The expectations. The day a child is born, you as a sweaty new mom drenched in god knows what bodily fluids are immediately supposed to take on that new title. Know how to breastfeed. Know how to love but not love too much so they don’t become dependent on you. Know to teach them to be respectful around people but weary of strangers. Know when to put a bandaid and some cream on an owie or wipe away some snot and when it’s bad enough to take them to the doctor. Know how to raise confident men and women who love themselves enough to not look to others for validation. Know where to send them to school or even if you should send them to school. Know how to laugh even when it’s hard. Do all of this with a smile, of course because you wouldn’t want anyone to think you don’t love being a mother. Also continue to work if you choose, stay healthy, make time for self care so you don’t yell at your partner, take care of the household, and oh - ask for help when you need it.

By the way, she needs help all the time, and making her ask for it is just adding one more project for her to manage.

I love being a mother more and more every day. I love watching Leo grow and I love growing with him. I love seeing the world through his eyes and that things are still light and magical for him. His great grandmother passed away earlier this year and his fish died a few weeks ago, and he says now we have two hearts to remember. As I complain about how complex it is (and I am entitled to a complaint every once in awhile), I love the depth that it has added to my life; a whole new understanding of the fragility and magnitude of each breath. I love it all.

But it’s also hard as fuck. If you are a fighter pilot, people expect your job to be hard and intense requiring lots of hours, intelligence, and bravery. If you’re a parent, people expect you to do all your normal life stuff and raise a tiny human with a smile on your face. It’s like parenting happens in secret. Until Columbine happens and then all of the sudden parenting is brought into question.

We just can’t have it all ways. We can’t expect parents (ahem moms) to do it all and be happy about it with very little support. I try to make a point on kids’ birthdays to say happy birth-day to the mom, and many times the mom is caught off guard almost to tears, like I was the first person who recognized the mother that had to bring the new person into the world. Please just see her. Hear her. Don’t judge her. She loves her children dearly - more than anyone could even come close to comprehend. She loves them so much that sometimes she forgets to put on deodorant herself because she was too busy thinking about lunches and seatbelts and lessons about not hitting. Don’t make a harmless joke about how stinky she is, just understand that simple things are now not so simple. Don’t say, “how can I help?” Just open your eyeballs and earballs and do something. We lose ourselves in our children because we have a new extremely important mission, and sometimes we need the people around us to throw in some carrots (see stone soup post).

For 4 years, 41 weeks, and 1 day I have been on a mission that I have not taken lightly. My in-laws and even my own husband were surprised at how good of a mother I was and am (a comment I’m still not sure if I should be offended by or complimented by). Sometimes I fail. Sometimes I forget to brush my hair or Leo’s. Sometimes I yell. Sometimes I cry because it’s a lot to carry. But most days I laugh at least once. I learn something new everyday. I see growth. I feel love. My kid is happy and healthy and I’m doing my best to keep myself happy and healthy too.

Happy birthday to Leo and happy birth-day to me. And may all the childbearing people know that their mission is one of great importance, and they’re doing a great job every day.