Part 7: It's not the destination....it's the journey!
The beauty of motherhood is lost on those who can't seem to smell anything past the vomit that seems to get into places you never thought imaginable. It's also lost on those who are pretty sure they would sell a kidney or lung JUST to gain a full night of uninterrupted sleep. I was TOTALLY that person.
What am I saying....I still AM that person! I may no longer have to sustain my children's life by feeding them from my own body, but believe me you, they are busy sucking other things out of me like sanity, my ability to retain information, my will to live at times and the capacity of my ass to reside in the lower two digit numbers. Oh hips...where have you gone?? Oh wait...that's right, you now reside on my curvacious daughters. Ugh!
Even with all that I've had some of my best moments being their mom. I've also had some of my most embarrassing ones as well.
Those are the stories that Jon loves me to focus on. He's sadistic that way.
When Hannah was approximately 3 to maybe 3 1/2 months old I had breastfed her on the couch while watching television. It's was a leisurely Sunday afternoon and we were busy just passing the day by being completely in love with every sound and face that she was making. It's these moments...these memories that make you want to have more children. What happened next is what makes you think twice about motherhood and possibly how easy it may actually be to mame your spouse.
Jon: Wow she's a little piggy.
Me: I know. I think this is the most she has eaten in a while. She usually just snacks.
Jon: I think I'd snack if I was down there too. It'd give me more reasons to snuggle up to your boobs.
Me: You'd have to get in line behind your infant daughter.
Jon: Why ya gotta be so mean?
Me: Why do YOU have to be such a pig? I'm busy feeding your daughter and your making sexual inuendo's.
Jon: I'm just saying...I support breastfeeding.
Me: You're just saying that because you want me to breastfeed you.
Hannah begins to make gurgly faces as I am burping her. It kind of looks like she's rolling her eyes at Jon's lame attempts to dig himself out of this hole but that's just my interpretation of the memory.
Finally she lets out a huge burp and follows it with a toot and then seems completely content to just sit there and check out the world.
Me: (singing to Hannah while blowing bubbles on her tummy) I love you...mommy loves you. Who loves you...mommy loves you.
Clearly she is digging this.
Me: (beginning to wiggle her arms and legs in a vague dancing motion)
Jon: You probably shouldn't do that she just ate.
Me: I am not doing anything. I am just moving her about. My god she is barely moving.
Jon: I don't think you should do that. You always yell at me NOT to do that. You say she'll puke.
Me: (clearly he doesn't understand that him doing what I say and me doing what I say are two totally different things) *rolling my eyes* Okay.
Jon walks out of the room and the coast is clear to go back to the dancing. I proceed to move Hannah about. She's going from slightly subdued moves to busting out her show stoppers. I decide to end with a little airplane and a kiss....
BIG FUCKING MISTAKE
Bleeeeehhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh......
Me: (gurgling sound) bay bay...
Jon: (no response...)
I can somewhat hear Jon moving around in the kitchen
Me: (gurgling sound) bay bay BAY.....
Jon: Are you calling me? You know that I can't hear you...speak up.
Me: (trying desperately NOT to swallow what has been launched into my mouth by my once beloved infant daughter) bay bay...BAYYYYYY...ga ma a tow a bay b pu n ma mo....
Jon: (sounding more than a little aggrivated) WHAT??
Me: (really trying not to puke while trying NOT to swallow what is being swished around in my mouth with every attempt to speak) I sa...ga ma a tow a bay b pu n ma mo......
Jon (choirs of angels come down from heaven and sing as my husband in all his fucking brilliant retardedness who can't hear me scream from another room has now deciphered the god damn Da Vinci Code of "baby vomit speak") I'm sorry...did you just say that you need a towel because the baby puked in your mouth? (laughter)
Me: BAYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY......a men a...hu up n ga m a tow!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Jon: (attempting NOT to piss himself, because clearly that could be used against him in this completely embarrassing moment of me choking back a mouthful of my own regurgiatated breastmilk) Hahahahahahahahahaha.....ok, ok....oh my god....oh my god...my sides hurt....ok, ok...here...give me the baby...here....oh my god...oh this is too funny...oh my god...here's the towel...
Stuff like that...10 years later...still funny.
I remember a time years later when Hannah was 3 years old and she learned how to use air quotes.
Correctly.
Neither of us know how she learned this. It definitely wasn't something that we had done. We aren't big air quote people...I mean really, who is??
I was coming up on a jaw surgery to treat chronic migraines, worsened by TMJ, which had completely debilitated me. Poor Hannah had gotten very used to sitting in semi quiet, semi dim rooms with mommy by this time. We had her in Mother's Day out programs so she wasn't a complete shut in, but there were still those few hours between when the program ended and Jon came home.
She was perched on the end of our bed watching Disney Channel. I, as usual, had my head wrapped in a towel to shield my eyes from light and an ice pack on top for good measure. I heard her crawling to the top of the bed towards my head so I peeled back my shroud.
Hannah: Momma?
Me: Yeah babe.
Hannah: Momma...when dinner is?
Me: (slighty out of it...trying to angle head to see the clock) Ummm. Soon babe...daddy will be home with it in just a little bit. Okay?
Hannah: Tay. Cause we need dinner is. It's "night time".
Me: (slightly baffled by the air quotes, I decide to press the matter) Hannah what do you mean by "night time" (repeating the same air quotes)
Hannah: (cocking her head to the side and squinching her eyese at me as if I am possibly the silliest person she has met in ALL her 3 years of life) Momma..."night time" is when it "dark outside"! (she then puts her hands in fist down on her sides as if this gesture combined with the double air quotes will of course drive her point right on home)
Very true Hannah dear. Very true indeed. Thankfully she did a repeat performance for Jon when he got home and we both had a good laugh at how sassy she was.
Life with girls is NOT all frills, bows and pink sparkliness. Nope...life raising Hannah so far has been a manic mixture of Sporty Spice, Power Puff Girls and Disney Channel girls that are clearly 20 playing 10 year olds who my daughter wants more than anything to mimic.
Welcome to my hell. The water is warm...jump on in.
Hannah can be rough and tumble like the time we had gone shopping for new jeans. She had picked out 4 that she absolutely loved and "mom I will never ask for another thing if you only buy me THESE pants". Oh lord...go sell your lies somewhere else sweetheart...my grandmother didn't buy those lies with my mother, my mother didn't buy those lies with me and HELLO I'm not buying them from you or your sister.
Not more than 48 hours later Hannah is on our front lawn with one of her friends playing. Another few minutes after that she is at the door crying and the friend is trying not to laugh. Clearly something embarrassing has befallen our daughter. Days like this make parenting so magical. Days like this make all the moments they make you feel like a jackleg by standing in the middle of Wal-mart screaming "you're not my mommy...I wan't my mommy" because you have denied them the Pokemon card, Power Puff Girl, Barbie, Coloring book, speck of dust...whatever...and now they are going to make you pay with public humiliation and maybe, just maybe a few dicey moments in the back of a police car explaining exactly why it is the little girl is so insistent her "real" mother lives in Pennsylvania and raises horses. Yes...your childs embarrassment at the fact that they and not you has done something to bring said embarassment...those moments are the lottery of parenthood.
Jon: Hannah what's the matter?
Me: Why are you crying? Are you hurt?
Hannah: *sniff*
Me: Hannah...speak up...what happened?
Hannah: (quivering lip) *sniff...sniff*
Jon: Hannah Michel...you have until the count of 5 to tell me what is going on. 1....2....3....
Hannah: (bawling)....*sniff*....I....was....playing....and, umm...and I thought I'd be....ummm...I...*sniff*....I thought it would....*crying*....*sniff*...umm...I thought it would be fun....to umm...(becoming quieter)...fun to be a....(barely audible)...fun to be a dog....
Me: Huh...you thought it would be fun to be a what? Babe...we can't hear you? (I clearly had heard her, but I wanted to make completely sure I heard her)
Hannah: *sniff*...I thought it would be fun to be a dog....
Jon: Uh...huh. And how does that factor into the crying??
Me: Did you get hurt?
Hannah: *sniff*...ummm...*sniff*....not exactly
Me: Okay then what "exactly" is the problem?
Hannah: *sniff*....I RIPPED MY PANTS....(complete hysterical bawling)
Jon: You ripped your new pants?
Hannah: Yyyyyeeeessssssssssss....*sniff*
Me: (completely incredulous that this is in fact the truth) How? How did you rip your pants? Show me.
Hannah: Well...I had her (pointing the unsupecting and very uncomfortable looking friend) hook the lead for the dogs to my belt loop.....and then I ran around in a circle...playing like a dog....*sniff*.....and my pants....well...they ripped.
Jon & Me: (stiffling laughter) (unable to stiffle laughter) (about to choke as we realize we can NO longer stiffle laughter do the only thing we can possibly do which is turn our backs on our crying child in the door)
Me: (from over my shoulder) Have a seat on the porch Hannah and your dad and I will be out in a moment to deal with this.
We shut the front door. High tail it back to our bedroom. Lock ourselves in the bathroom and bust out laughing for a good 10 minutes.
We made her wear those pants until they were highwaters. Every....single....time she came out in them we had to fight not to pee ourselves laughing at the day she decided to play dog.
These are just a few of the moments in my 10 years raising my sweet baby girl. I'm sure there will be many more. I record them to use as blackmail later.
As Jon and I watched her blow out the candles on her cookie cake covered in too much make-up from the make overs they were performing on one another for the sleepover we realized that all those moments have led us to this one. All the tears, fears, laughter, joy, pride, guilt, sleeplessness and so many more have culminated in this one little girl.
Motherhood...hell parenthood is one hell of a ride. The admission isn't free. The side effects are permanent and the pay is...well, it sucks. But the moments of shear madness that lead to some of the bar none, hands down most amazing memories you will ever create while sober are worth the journey. If you haven't jumped on this train I highly recommend it. Plus, it's kind of like a pyramid scheme...the more of you that I get to do it, the better the prizes for me. Get to it people...make babies. Make memories. Make me not be the only crazy lady.
~JP
Even with all that I've had some of my best moments being their mom. I've also had some of my most embarrassing ones as well.
Those are the stories that Jon loves me to focus on. He's sadistic that way.
When Hannah was approximately 3 to maybe 3 1/2 months old I had breastfed her on the couch while watching television. It's was a leisurely Sunday afternoon and we were busy just passing the day by being completely in love with every sound and face that she was making. It's these moments...these memories that make you want to have more children. What happened next is what makes you think twice about motherhood and possibly how easy it may actually be to mame your spouse.
Jon: Wow she's a little piggy.
Me: I know. I think this is the most she has eaten in a while. She usually just snacks.
Jon: I think I'd snack if I was down there too. It'd give me more reasons to snuggle up to your boobs.
Me: You'd have to get in line behind your infant daughter.
Jon: Why ya gotta be so mean?
Me: Why do YOU have to be such a pig? I'm busy feeding your daughter and your making sexual inuendo's.
Jon: I'm just saying...I support breastfeeding.
Me: You're just saying that because you want me to breastfeed you.
Hannah begins to make gurgly faces as I am burping her. It kind of looks like she's rolling her eyes at Jon's lame attempts to dig himself out of this hole but that's just my interpretation of the memory.
Finally she lets out a huge burp and follows it with a toot and then seems completely content to just sit there and check out the world.
Me: (singing to Hannah while blowing bubbles on her tummy) I love you...mommy loves you. Who loves you...mommy loves you.
Clearly she is digging this.
Me: (beginning to wiggle her arms and legs in a vague dancing motion)
Jon: You probably shouldn't do that she just ate.
Me: I am not doing anything. I am just moving her about. My god she is barely moving.
Jon: I don't think you should do that. You always yell at me NOT to do that. You say she'll puke.
Me: (clearly he doesn't understand that him doing what I say and me doing what I say are two totally different things) *rolling my eyes* Okay.
Jon walks out of the room and the coast is clear to go back to the dancing. I proceed to move Hannah about. She's going from slightly subdued moves to busting out her show stoppers. I decide to end with a little airplane and a kiss....
BIG FUCKING MISTAKE
Bleeeeehhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh......
Me: (gurgling sound) bay bay...
Jon: (no response...)
I can somewhat hear Jon moving around in the kitchen
Me: (gurgling sound) bay bay BAY.....
Jon: Are you calling me? You know that I can't hear you...speak up.
Me: (trying desperately NOT to swallow what has been launched into my mouth by my once beloved infant daughter) bay bay...BAYYYYYY...ga ma a tow a bay b pu n ma mo....
Jon: (sounding more than a little aggrivated) WHAT??
Me: (really trying not to puke while trying NOT to swallow what is being swished around in my mouth with every attempt to speak) I sa...ga ma a tow a bay b pu n ma mo......
Jon (choirs of angels come down from heaven and sing as my husband in all his fucking brilliant retardedness who can't hear me scream from another room has now deciphered the god damn Da Vinci Code of "baby vomit speak") I'm sorry...did you just say that you need a towel because the baby puked in your mouth? (laughter)
Me: BAYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY......a men a...hu up n ga m a tow!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Jon: (attempting NOT to piss himself, because clearly that could be used against him in this completely embarrassing moment of me choking back a mouthful of my own regurgiatated breastmilk) Hahahahahahahahahaha.....ok, ok....oh my god....oh my god...my sides hurt....ok, ok...here...give me the baby...here....oh my god...oh this is too funny...oh my god...here's the towel...
Stuff like that...10 years later...still funny.
I remember a time years later when Hannah was 3 years old and she learned how to use air quotes.
Correctly.
Neither of us know how she learned this. It definitely wasn't something that we had done. We aren't big air quote people...I mean really, who is??
I was coming up on a jaw surgery to treat chronic migraines, worsened by TMJ, which had completely debilitated me. Poor Hannah had gotten very used to sitting in semi quiet, semi dim rooms with mommy by this time. We had her in Mother's Day out programs so she wasn't a complete shut in, but there were still those few hours between when the program ended and Jon came home.
She was perched on the end of our bed watching Disney Channel. I, as usual, had my head wrapped in a towel to shield my eyes from light and an ice pack on top for good measure. I heard her crawling to the top of the bed towards my head so I peeled back my shroud.
Hannah: Momma?
Me: Yeah babe.
Hannah: Momma...when dinner is?
Me: (slighty out of it...trying to angle head to see the clock) Ummm. Soon babe...daddy will be home with it in just a little bit. Okay?
Hannah: Tay. Cause we need dinner is. It's "night time".
Me: (slightly baffled by the air quotes, I decide to press the matter) Hannah what do you mean by "night time" (repeating the same air quotes)
Hannah: (cocking her head to the side and squinching her eyese at me as if I am possibly the silliest person she has met in ALL her 3 years of life) Momma..."night time" is when it "dark outside"! (she then puts her hands in fist down on her sides as if this gesture combined with the double air quotes will of course drive her point right on home)
Very true Hannah dear. Very true indeed. Thankfully she did a repeat performance for Jon when he got home and we both had a good laugh at how sassy she was.
Life with girls is NOT all frills, bows and pink sparkliness. Nope...life raising Hannah so far has been a manic mixture of Sporty Spice, Power Puff Girls and Disney Channel girls that are clearly 20 playing 10 year olds who my daughter wants more than anything to mimic.
Welcome to my hell. The water is warm...jump on in.
Hannah can be rough and tumble like the time we had gone shopping for new jeans. She had picked out 4 that she absolutely loved and "mom I will never ask for another thing if you only buy me THESE pants". Oh lord...go sell your lies somewhere else sweetheart...my grandmother didn't buy those lies with my mother, my mother didn't buy those lies with me and HELLO I'm not buying them from you or your sister.
Not more than 48 hours later Hannah is on our front lawn with one of her friends playing. Another few minutes after that she is at the door crying and the friend is trying not to laugh. Clearly something embarrassing has befallen our daughter. Days like this make parenting so magical. Days like this make all the moments they make you feel like a jackleg by standing in the middle of Wal-mart screaming "you're not my mommy...I wan't my mommy" because you have denied them the Pokemon card, Power Puff Girl, Barbie, Coloring book, speck of dust...whatever...and now they are going to make you pay with public humiliation and maybe, just maybe a few dicey moments in the back of a police car explaining exactly why it is the little girl is so insistent her "real" mother lives in Pennsylvania and raises horses. Yes...your childs embarrassment at the fact that they and not you has done something to bring said embarassment...those moments are the lottery of parenthood.
Jon: Hannah what's the matter?
Me: Why are you crying? Are you hurt?
Hannah: *sniff*
Me: Hannah...speak up...what happened?
Hannah: (quivering lip) *sniff...sniff*
Jon: Hannah Michel...you have until the count of 5 to tell me what is going on. 1....2....3....
Hannah: (bawling)....*sniff*....I....was....playing....and, umm...and I thought I'd be....ummm...I...*sniff*....I thought it would....*crying*....*sniff*...umm...I thought it would be fun....to umm...(becoming quieter)...fun to be a....(barely audible)...fun to be a dog....
Me: Huh...you thought it would be fun to be a what? Babe...we can't hear you? (I clearly had heard her, but I wanted to make completely sure I heard her)
Hannah: *sniff*...I thought it would be fun to be a dog....
Jon: Uh...huh. And how does that factor into the crying??
Me: Did you get hurt?
Hannah: *sniff*...ummm...*sniff*....not exactly
Me: Okay then what "exactly" is the problem?
Hannah: *sniff*....I RIPPED MY PANTS....(complete hysterical bawling)
Jon: You ripped your new pants?
Hannah: Yyyyyeeeessssssssssss....*sniff*
Me: (completely incredulous that this is in fact the truth) How? How did you rip your pants? Show me.
Hannah: Well...I had her (pointing the unsupecting and very uncomfortable looking friend) hook the lead for the dogs to my belt loop.....and then I ran around in a circle...playing like a dog....*sniff*.....and my pants....well...they ripped.
Jon & Me: (stiffling laughter) (unable to stiffle laughter) (about to choke as we realize we can NO longer stiffle laughter do the only thing we can possibly do which is turn our backs on our crying child in the door)
Me: (from over my shoulder) Have a seat on the porch Hannah and your dad and I will be out in a moment to deal with this.
We shut the front door. High tail it back to our bedroom. Lock ourselves in the bathroom and bust out laughing for a good 10 minutes.
We made her wear those pants until they were highwaters. Every....single....time she came out in them we had to fight not to pee ourselves laughing at the day she decided to play dog.
These are just a few of the moments in my 10 years raising my sweet baby girl. I'm sure there will be many more. I record them to use as blackmail later.
As Jon and I watched her blow out the candles on her cookie cake covered in too much make-up from the make overs they were performing on one another for the sleepover we realized that all those moments have led us to this one. All the tears, fears, laughter, joy, pride, guilt, sleeplessness and so many more have culminated in this one little girl.
Motherhood...hell parenthood is one hell of a ride. The admission isn't free. The side effects are permanent and the pay is...well, it sucks. But the moments of shear madness that lead to some of the bar none, hands down most amazing memories you will ever create while sober are worth the journey. If you haven't jumped on this train I highly recommend it. Plus, it's kind of like a pyramid scheme...the more of you that I get to do it, the better the prizes for me. Get to it people...make babies. Make memories. Make me not be the only crazy lady.
~JP
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