Being a Mom is Messy

being a mom is messy, messy moms, kids messes, motherhood humor, motherhood reality, truth of motherhood, Being a Mom is messy. It’s messy in a multi-dimensional, chest-deep, figurative, literal kind of way from pregnancy right on past the teen years. From up-the-back poopy diapers to teenage heartache, Moms are in the thick of it start to finish. Motherhood: A Messy Gig.

Here, Mom, hold this …

dried up cricket, handful of dirty rocks, sticky wet sandy towel, snotty tissue, glittery-gluey-drippy art project, bunch of drooping dandelions (they’re for you!), heavy-bag-filled-with-important-things-I-couldn’t-leave-at-home-and-now-I-don’t-want-to-carry, half-eaten yogurt, bumpy brown toad, sticky blue hand, disappointed heart, chewed up piece of gum …

What’s this in my bag? …

another chewed up piece of gum stuck with dirt and fuzz, clam shells with drying seaweed, dirty stinky socks, (wait, only one of those), melted sky blue and pumpkin orange crayons, friendship bracelets and silly bands, who put a syrup packet in here?, scraps of drawings (oh, wait, that one has glitter and glue, too),  crusty band-aids …

What’s that on the floor? …

more crusty used band-aids (the garbage is right there), wet towels, grassy footprints, wet bathing suits, sandy footprints, more wet towels, trails of smelly smelly shoes, science projects that can’t be parted with, breakfast crumbs, snack crumbs, lunch crumbs, snack crumbs, dinner crumbs, Cheerios, smooshed bits of Play-Doh, tags from the new shirt and popsicle sticks (the garbage is RIGHT THERE!), underwear (?), library books, bobby pins, treasures from the yard, the bus stop and the play ground and homework papers.

 Come here, let me help you …

with your homework (seriously, I do not remember how to do this!), bloody noses, chunky throw up, broken hearts and hurt feelings, gushing scrapes and oozing scabs, bubblegum bangs, peanut butter ears, dog-pooped shoes, splintered toes and thorn-filled arms, bike falls and skating spills, last place blues and deep dark bruises, stumbling first steps and bumpy first falls, stumbling first steps in love and bumpy first break ups …

What happened to me? …

how did this sticky wrapper get into my pocket, red sauce splattered on my chest, spit up on my shoulder (it’s down your back, too, honey!), finger prints on my butt, chocolate on my white shirt, (what’s a little wine on it now?), wet seat from going down the slide and rust marks on my hips from the swings, my memory is girl covered in seaweed, seaweed pile, messy mommys, messy kids, being a mom is messy, fizzling, my graying hair is filling the sink, my eyes are decorated with wrinkles and those highlights have evolved into a full hair coloring, boobs leaking and spraying, breast pumps yanking and pulling, chipped nail polish and crackled hands … but also, my heart has grown exponentially, my eyes see things through my children’s inquisitiveness, my hands belong in those little hands – and those bigger hands, my ears hear the most precious, “I love yous.”

Being a Mom is Messy …

Kids spit things out into our hands, stir up dirt swirling it to our necks, they sneeze into our faces and wipe their noses across our shoulders, they drip their salty tears and spit chewed food out in bursts of laughter. They trail a mess behind them like a shadow, no, more like a tidal wave and they dirty up as you clean up. They don’t feel the boogers lurking in their nostrils and don’t mind the mud under their finger nails; they don’t notice the yogurt down their shirts and don’t care if their feet smell to the next state (it happens all the time in Rhode Island!) Never mind the smell of a teenager’s bedroom. Can you smell that, Canada?

Yup, being a Mom is messy – but then again, cleanliness is overrated, those kiddos are more than worth it, dirt, stink, messes and all!

 

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