OM - the Order of Motherhood. No wonder it's also the Hindu symbol of one who protects, sustains.
Sure, motherhood brings it's overwhelming joys, pure love, gaggles of giggles, and immeasurable hugs and kisses.
It's no secret that motherhood also brings 365 days of no thanks, no pay raises (no pay, for that matter), no kudos, no awards ceremonies. Come on, when's the last time you looked your mom in the eye and said thank you? I know I haven't done it lately. Perhaps never. So here you go, Mom, for all the blogosphere to witness: THANK YOU.
There are certain rites of passage that all moms experience. Here are a few of my own:
I knew I was a mom when...
I went out in public to get my oil changed with nipple shields on (under a white T-shirt!).
my son peed on my foot instead of the tree trunk he was supposedly aiming for at the park.
I showed up to a big presentation with gunk that resembled oatmeal or snot on my shoulder.
I spent more money on my sons' spring wardrobes than my own.
I cut up fruit in teeny tiny pieces for fruit salad...that I'm serving to adults.
I was smacked square in the face by my irate 3-year old mid-tantrum...in public.
I could sing along (at the top of my lungs, mind you) to the theme songs of the Wiggles, Mickey Mouse Clubhouse, and Dragon Tales.
I left for a meeting and was halfway there when I realized I grabbed the diaper bag instead of my laptop bag. (I had to stop at Rite Aid on the way to grab a pen and legal pad to appear at least somewhat prepared.)
I could map all public restrooms in every kid friendly venue in town (bonus points for knowing which ones are cleaner than others).
I fireman carried two screaming kids away from the children's museum that they clearly didn't want to leave.
I hung a giant canvas that we all took turns painting as the focal point artwork over our couch. (It's abstract at its finest.)
I was covered in pee, poop, and puke all at one time, and didn't care because I was more worried about what my poor kid was going through in his time of utter misery.
I seriously considered mixing a bloody mary/mimosa/insert drink here at 10:00...AM.
How about you? What rites of passage have you experienced?
