It's A Mother of A Job.

As mothers, do any of us any of us really know what we are doing?

I am beginning to think I get it, and by get it it, I mean I am realizing I know virtually NOTHING.

Think about it; who hired us and gave us the most important job of our lives with little to no training?

I was hired by a company that gave me a position and me told me nothing about said role, but once hired I was expected to be the CEO upon arrival.

So you wing it, and just try and do your best.

And by best I mean just trying keeping your kids alive.

At best, we can hopefully teach them some lessons, sprinkle in lots of love, and try not to lose our own sanity in the interim.

We do our best to orchestrate the days; and the dinners.

Ones which may be viewed as despicable on occasion.

Motherhood has no room for bruised egos.

It creates a skin thicker than leather.

That's because we are here to raise our little warriors to be kind and cautious, while they complain and push back the whole way.

We want for them to be curious while also curated.

As mothers I think all we want to be their cheerleaders, but within reason.

We also need to know when to check them and remind them of their place.

I am pretty sure when we as mothers open our eyes in the morning we hold our breath, and hope for the best for our kids, but also conversely, ourselves.

Or at least I know I do.

So when we question ourselves and ask, do we know what we are doing?

The answer is simply put, probably not.

Who are we kidding?

But we are doing our best, or at least trying to, right ladies?

(Or at least I am, and that surely doesn't look even close to OK on certain days)

Jesus, the first diaper I ever changed was my kids.

I didn't have siblings in case you are late to my game, and my cousins lived in the Midwest.

All my parents friends either didn't have kids, or they were way older than myself.

Henceforth, there was no gauge on how to take care of something, or someone else.

Unless I served as the help for their dinner parties(wink wink Mom and Dad).

I am pretty sure playing servant actually did prep me for having kids but that is for another blog.

In reality, my parents kept me sheltered and taken care of.

They allowed and afforded for me to not have a care in the world.

I am not complaining, just explaining, (as to why I am a spoiled brat).

Thank you Mom and Dad.

I wasn't raised on the ins and outs of how to be a mother.

I was raised to be a child.

What a shocking concept.

They provided me with a safe environment, but it also came with the correct amount of boundaries and borders (ones I found myself crossing on more than one occasion).

When my kids showed up, so did shell shock.

I was taught how to be a Girl Scout, not a girl or boy mom.

Hell, not even a mom at all.

But I didn't let those insecurities and uncertainties lead my quest as a mother.

I invested in this unknown journey with the hopes that the interest rates would be worth the sacrifice.

I allowed in all the scaries that would accompany motherhood, and man, are there a lot.

Dr. Spock didn't mention that in his book.

I can only say that I prayed that my weaknesses would lead to my eventual winning streaks.

I trusted in the notion that we are allowed to trip in order to triumph.

Don't act a fool and act like you know it all.

Understand that this process won't necessarily look like the version we imagined in our heads, but perhaps it is one that imagined us.

There is no rule book to becoming a parent.

And believe it or not, the only one that exists is actually the one that was taught by your parents.

They are your silent sherpas.

And with that, I am reminded I was raised by the best ones, even though I imagined my childhood to be one in chains.

I was and am still blind.

Just now I wear glasses, but I can see the truth much more clearly , ah the irony.

There are no great accomplishments that come without effort, exhaustion, and struggle, because it is in the attempts, trials, questions and tribulations where you find strength and knowledge and empowerment.

This whole motherhood thing made me realize that changing a diaper doesn't make you a parent or certainly prepare you for it.

Motherhood has prompted me to justify the fact that I am not here to be loved or liked.

If you don't have children this probably makes absolutely no sense.

So here's what that means, it means that I am here to be teach, and sometimes that may mean I am hated in my lessons or lectures, and I am OK with that, because I want my children protected, practical and while also pragmatic.

Something my parents installed in me at a great cost, theirs.

One which I was too dumb to buy into at the time.

But as my mother always told me, it's easy to be your child's friend.

But to be their mother?

That takes dedication and a bit of self eradication.

She claimed it would be worth it.

Today, I couldn't agree more.

So while my children may loathe me, I want them to know, I love you.

To my kiddos, please look back and try and appreciate that every lesson I try/tried to teach all of you.

Know it was done at my own expense; via my own experiences, and education so that you may prosper and progress in an easier manner than I did.

I am trying to pave a way for you that has less detours than the roadmap I used; and I was given a damn good one, even if I didn't recognize it.

So as we recently celebrated Mother's Day, and also Father's Day, I ask of every mother; please put your feet up on more than one day, and take a deep breath to appreciate what we do.

Bask in all of that hard work that you do on the daily and soak in that "sun" you created, and eventually know you will be able to look forward to the prospects that that sun will lead to the "tan" you deserve and that will be able to show off with beaming happiness.

We are all in this together.

XoXo,

C.

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