Today we had many battles you and I. We had battles in the sun, battles in the sand, battles over popsicles, and a battle while I walked you screaming and kicking back to the house. You were red and fuming, I fought back tears. We’ve had thousands of battles you and I.

Today our battles were about little kid things, someday they might be about curfew or boys or doing the dishes.

No matter what, here’s what I want you to know:

We are not defined by these battles. We are not defined by the storms, we are defined by the times I hold you tight and by the I love you’s and the kisses.  We aren’t defined by hard days or hard moments, we are defined by the fact that I love you and I will never stop. We are defined by the truth that I will never ever give up on, or grow tired of you. You are mine forever and for always.

Those moments though they’re hard and unnerving, there’s no where I’d rather be.

Yes, sometimes inside I’m fuming. I wonder how it is possible we’ve done this this so many times before. I’m embarrassed, I’m tired, and I wonder if I were better at being your mom if we wouldn’t have blow ups like this.

Sometimes I simply wilt under the disapproving glances of strangers.

In my heart though? I’d do it all a million times again, my dear. I’d carry you up a hundred more flights of stairs while you’re kicking and screaming and I’d abandon a thousand more carts in Target to take you to the car.

I choose you, in all your sweaty, screaming, kicking, fuming, glory.

A lot of the time I’m stuck in now, I just want you to hold my hand to cross the street and say “okay Mama” when I say “no”. Sometimes I’m simply too tired and worn out to remember my joy, but I look at you now perched on the counter eating a slice a bread and I smile.

I like you; I like your strong will.

You aren’t the kind to be deterred by one or a million consequences. Your voice is vibrant and sometimes I believe it really can’t be swallowed. That’s okay. Someday you will channel that strength into something that matters deeply to your heart.

We have all the time in the world to figure that out.

Some people might call you hard or difficult (I do too sometimes). Some people might wonder where I find my grace every day…but they don’t see what I see. They don’t know that out of sea of well behaved children I’d choose you again and again and again.

After a tantrum I hold you. We snuggle in your bed and you ask me to sing a song. I breath deep because you smell like sunshine. You’re worth every single battle today, and every single one tomorrow.

I love you.

Mama

***

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I am not used to being the one who is not the parent of the screaming child. This was uncharted territory.

I identified with her painfully and I wanted desperately to affirm her. I wasn’t sure what to do except smile and look as nonjudgmental as possible. I tried to think of what I could say, like, should I shout above the screaming, “YOU’RE AMAZING!!” Or should I go in for a fist bump, “You got this!!”?

Before I could process what my awesome, pro-mom, non-judgey response was going to be the mom turned to me with desperate eyes, “I’m sorry, um, can you hold her?” She held out her crying infant towards me.

“YES!” I said eagerly. As I took her precious one in my arms, the little girl made eye contact and then wailed. I bounced her gently and put her pacifier back in her mouth, feeling such an intense solidarity with this mama.

“I have four,” I offered, hoping to reassure her that she hadn’t chosen a psychopath.

“Me too,” she smiled

“Target with kids is hard,” I said, “how old is she?”

“Four weeks,” she smiled with postpartum exhaustion in her eyes, “thank you so much,” she took back her baby and I watched her walk away.

No…thank you. I thought.

I have been the woman in the checkout line more times than I can count. I’ve stood sweating in this woman’s exact position, barely commanding the tears to wait until I got to my car. I’ve felt my face grow red and hot as my toddler screamed and kicked, waking up my baby who was angry and ready to nurse. I’ve felt so alone and so out of control.

I’ve thought I SHOULD BE ABLE TO DO THIS. I AM DOING SOMETHING WRONG AND EVERYONE KNOWS WHAT IT IS EXCEPT FOR ME.

I’ve pretended to be calm and cool while inside I felt like I was suffocating. I’ve felt embarrassed and emotionally naked in front of an audience of spectators. In my mind people were waiting and expecting me to GET IT TOGETHER.

But as I rocked this baby I thought, in those moments, there were probably people just like me who were longing to lighten my load and whisper: hey, I get it, I’ve been here too – you’re doing a great job.

This mama was brave. She let her guard down and because of that, gave me a gift. She redeemed a thousand of my own frantic check-out moments by letting me be a part of hers. She let me join her village and reminded me that I’m not alone.

I am not the first one to walk this road and I will not be the last. There are grandmas, great grandmas and great great grandmas that have gone before me. There are mamas whose kids are older than mine and who are navigating junior high and high school. There are those who are right where I am and those who have brand new babies.

Whatever stage I find myself at, I will not find myself alone. This is a weathered road we travel.

I’m not the only parent whose kids have thrown tantrums in Target, I’m not the only one to have her kids tell a lie, I’m not the only Mom to lose her temper. I’m not the only one to have a son who struggles with reading, or the only one to have a child scream I HATE YOU. I am not the first and I will not be the last.

We really are a part of a village, a part of something much bigger than just ourselves and there are women all around us who simply get it.

Chance brought me one of my people, a sister I just hadn’t met yet. She is one of the ones in the ring with me, doing messy, but beautiful work. We are both knee deep in motherhood and for a moment our stories crossed and I am grateful.

To me she was beautiful and valiant, a mother holding everything together by a thread. I don’t know how she felt. I don’t know if she felt small, or if she felt tired. I don’t know if she felt undone or defeated…but I hope she felt supported.

I hope that in that moment she did not feel alone.

I hope she felt like I was WITH her.

No judgement.

Just respect.

We are not the first moms and we will not be the last to have a “moment”.

It is messy, it is hard, we will fail often…

but we do none of it alone, and we are never, ever the “only one”.

#solidarity

***

Gah, I love you all! I am so grateful for a growing community of mothers who are FOR each other. Ya’ll are the literal best. 

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If you’re like me, you know what it’s like to be both the judger and the judged. If you’re a parent you also know what it’s like to think you “know” everything, and then find out the hard way…you don’t.

1. You used to think, ‘my children will not act like THAT in public’. Then one day you’re in Target and your precious two year old is screaming like she’s being mauled by a Velociraptor. Other customers are clearly looking for blood and have 9-1-1 on speed dial. But you know, this entire horrific event is because she wants to stand, not sit, in the upper part of the cart (while) you push it because shopping should be more like the X-Games. Meanwhile, your four year old seems to not walk like a normal human, but rather teleport to different isles. You are still chiding yourself on why you haven’t purchased her an entire wardrobe of neon. You find yourself in what’s known as the “parental walk of shame”…all in the name of tampons and bobby pins. 

2.You used to think because they will be smaller than you, they will be easy to control. You were wrong.

3. You used to think, why does that mom not seem to remember anything? And then you walk out of TJ Maxx with unpurchased sunglasses on your head, with the giant censor tag hanging over your bangs. You set off the alarm twice and are finally ushered out the door because apparently your sweet-mom-face distracts from petty theft. It is then that you realize what that “nagging thing” in the back of your mind was. You blame the pregnant brain even though, clearly you are no longer pregnant.

4. You used to think you would guide your children with a soft voice of parental wisdom. Then you discover that these people are not reasonable. These are the most unreasonable humans you have ever met.

5. You used to think that you would feed them all organic and never sugar ever, and then they eat their own poop.

6. You used to think that “it is possible” to raise a child in a way that they wouldn’t need counseling. Now “counseling” is a neon sign that pops up in your subconscience every time you make a mistake. Damn counseling.

7. As you watched those god-awful tantrums you’d think, ‘what that child needs is to not be spoiled’. Now you find yourself in that exact situation and you would really like to climb on top of the organic canned corn and shout, “This screaming child you see before you? THIS IS my child not being spoiled. So when you step in to parenthood you better put your grown up pants on, because parenting isn’t for wussys.” Mic drop.

8. You used to think, why is that child so dirty? Why do they have fuzz and a sucker stick permanently attached to their face? Do these children get bathed? Now you know, sometimes you have to take a brief pause from the never ending project called “Wiping”. You have a few things to do.

9. You used to think you understood cleaning as a single person, and how it is so difficult to keep up. Now you would like to take a tall margarita and go lounge in that life.

But the grand finale, number one thing you have learned is this:

10. You used to think, “Birth control”, “Better you than me”, “This is why I don’t have kids”. But you had NO IDEA how much your feelers feel because of these precious beings. How much JOY they would add to your life. How your heart would swell so much you’d feel like it was going to burst. And how you would never ever in a million years trade them for anything. And how, yes, it’s so uncontrolled and messy and hard,  but nobody, not anybody could have prepared you for how WORTH IT it would be, and how much better of a human you would become because of it.

What number do you relate to the most? Or, have your own? Do tell!

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Photo Credit: Sonesta Smith @ Sands of Time Design (Definitely check out the rest of her work!)

For more reading  like this check out Don’t Judge My Uterus.