Yeah, that's right. Catching my 1 year old daughter's puke was a beautiful moment. Why? Because it's a moment that reminds me that my little girl is the most precious thing I have, that I would do anything for her, even things I would never imagine doing before for anyone else. Like placing my hands under her chin at the moment I realized she was gonna hurl. I didn't even have to think about it...of course I would hold her vomit. I'm a mom. That's what we do. We catch throw-up, we dig out boogers, we kiss slobbery open mouths. We get poo on our hands.
Seriously, I think my life as a mom revolves around messes. If it's not the food thrown all over the floor, it's the wad of paper she managed to rip into a million shreds.
Sometimes, I want to call it quits. On the bad days, I look at my life and all I see is a woman who rarely puts on make up or actual pants, who is a prisoner in her own home with her child as acting prison guard. And on those bad days, I just want to go back to being a free girl with little responsibilities and her Saturdays all to herself.
And it's okay. We're all entitled to our pity parties, to our bad days.
Because there's also the good days.
Like the mornings when Savannah wakes up and I go into her room to find her bouncing all over the crib, giving me that mischievous little smile that I know she must have gotten from me (Oh please help me).
Or how lately she loves sitting on my lap...I don't know why but I just LOVE that she does this. There's nothing that can make you feel more special than the love of your child.
I know that I am her favorite person. I know that she trusts me completely, that she loves me unconditionally, and that she thrives off of every bit of attention that I give her.
I read a blog post today where a husband announced that his wife's job of being a mother is harder than his job at a law firm. While I appreciated the consideration towards mothers, I think that we have to move past this need to feel that we somehow work harder, or our lives are more difficult. Because honestly, I wouldn't trade places with my husband...okay, maybe for a day or two...
Being a mom isn't "hard", it's joyous. It's wild. It's messy, unpredictable, frustrating. It's beautiful.
And while sometimes I want to think that my job is harder than my husbands, I have to really dig deep and accept that it isn't. We simply play different roles, both working to make all of the gears shift correctly, neither of us better or more important than the other.
What I'm learning: The difference between happiness and depression is attitude. Bryce goes to work with a smile on his face (literally) and comes home with that same smile. He never complains, even when he's spent all day in the rain digging a hole, water in his boots, blisters on his hands. Instead he laughs as he tells me how warm the water in that hole was. He is such an example to me, and I'm trying to be more positive when it comes to the "holes" I have to dig each day. I would never degrade his efforts and perseverance by saying that my job is harder.
Heck, I spend every day with the most beautiful face in the world.
If we, as mothers, manage to have the same attitude my husband has, finding the good in the daily chores, the dirty diapers, and the mountains of laundry, not only will we be happier, but our home will be a safer, more loving place.
So bring on the puke! I don't mind getting my hands a little dirty... it just means that I'm MOM. And what better and more prestigious title can you have?
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