1. in a raw or unprepared state; unrefined or natural.
2. lacking in intellectual subtlety; rudimentary; undeveloped.
3. lacking finish; polish, or completeness.
I became a mom the moment a little double pink line appeared on that good old fashioned pee stick. I remember taking it on a whim. It was, after all, only the fifth pregnancy test I’d taken in a month of “not knowing”what the heck was going on. I remember saying, “Oh my goodness,” and running out to show Matt, not sure if my eyes were tricking me. He about passed out. The second time around I learned that this is the standard reaction with him, “Holy crap” or something “like” that is uttered, eyes roll back in his head, and then he swings forward in one sudden movement and his eyes become the size of softballs. But that’s his story. My story[ies] begin with the crude pee stick. And while I could wish that it was something more romantic…like the stork or something (with music in the background)…motherhood is just extremely crude. And therefore it is appropriate that it starts with a pee stick.
I had a lovely Mother’s Day. It started with Coco waking me up and dragging me to the living room to watch the Disney channel. I vaguely remember her pulling the gallon of milk over to me to fill her sippy cup (yes, I was THAT incoherent). The cute little side story of the morning was her curling up in my lap, grabbing my hands, and then running her fingers down my scars. On my right hand (which is perfectly healed) she just touched it. The left hand (which is still pealing) she touched, and then brushed her hands like she had touched something dirty. “I do ‘dis when I touch that hand,” she told me. “It’s yuck.” Thanks a lot, child of mine. So glad you can distinguish the state of my skin.
We went to church, and for the first time, we allowed Coco to sit in with us. It was partly her anxiety over being left in Sunday school, and partly that her legs were hurting her particularly severely this morning, so I caved. I was horribly wrong. Although she was quiet, Coco used our worship hour to rid herself of every wiggle her little body contained. Sigh. At one point she stood up on the chair and insisted that she needed to see “the man.” And then she asked, “Who’s that? What’s his name?” I don’t know if we’ll be taking her back into the service. If I do, I’ll come armed with a goody bag and sit in the back.
After church we went to the mall and Matt “released” me to buy whatever I wanted. Practical me chose a bunch of undershirts. Wow. I am exciting. If you know me at all, you know that wear a layered shirt every day of my life. You know you’re a boring person when you get excited buying undershirts. Matt said, “That’d be like me getting underwear for Fathers Day, or my birthday or something. Wait–didn’t I get that last year?” Oops. I need to stop being so practical.
We also did the Disney store—which makes me both long and dread a trip to Disneyland. We’ll get there in God’s timing. That’s all I have to say. Hopefully Disney will be less idolatrous for Coco at that point…I dont know.
|Me and my girl.|
|Totally her idea. I love that.|
|On our way to find the perfect undershirts… wow.|
|Please don’t buy me underwear as a gift.|
I think Mother’s Day is an important holiday. Now that I’m a mom, I milk it for all it’s worth. My birthday, anniversary, and Christmas all fall within the same month, so I don’t really have much in between. But besides wanting a day for me, I want the day to think about my Mom and the legacy she, and other moms in my family have left for me to follow. I love all you ladies: Mom, Aunt Gloria, Karee, Leann and Nama. You guys have all given me insight into what being a mom for the long haul really means. Right now, I’m so focused on the immediate: the next diaper, the next tantrum, the next ear infection. You guys have all shown me in different ways that even in the crude moment of wiping puke off of a screaming child, I’m leaving my own legacy for my kids. My daily attitude, my words, my mannerisms all impact how the day goes and even how my daughter will learn to respond to everyday circumstances.
Motherhood catches you in the raw and unprepared state. It shows you that you’re not really as refined as you thought you were. It teaches you that you’re a total space cadet sometimes. You’re intellectual activity for a 24 period could be measured in the ounces of formula you poured. You’re not finished. You’re not polished. You’re eyebrows need waxing. Your words need shaping. Your attitude needs adjusting. You need forgiveness every day for thinking your more than just a crude vessel that is as raw as they come. You need grace. Lots of it.
And somehow, through that crude journey, beautiful, fabulous, incredible, graceful women emerge. I know this because my Mom is that way and she had three in diapers at one point. Phew. My mom-in-law dealt with my husband as a child. Enough said. Ha! Kinda kidding here, but seriously, she raised her children as a new Christian and I am so thankful for the man she shaped in her home.
At church they handed out carnations for all the moms. As I took mine along with all the other mothers, I realized I’m such a rookie. I’m still such an unrefined version of the mom I want to be.
But I DO know I’m getting polished. One diaper, one tantrum, and one ear infection at a time.