Nine months into this Mom Gig and I’ve decided that motherhood is just a bunch of teary-eyed moments strung together. Sometimes it’s a little weepy tear, other times it’s a full on ugly cry. For a chick who used to think crying made you look weak AF, this revelation amuses me.
My latest bout of tears occurred over two Graco 4Ever car seats. It’s a Sunday morning and I am in the kitchen with Hubbz. We are unboxing our latest purchase… Car seats. One for my car and one for his truck. (Well, maybe I should be honest here… I am unboxing them. Hubbz is keeping me company, cracking jokes, drinking his coffee… And perfecting his photobomb game.) I set them on the table to inspect them. My Mama Sense is heightened because the safety of my tiny human is at hand. (In case you don’t know, Mama Sense is like Spidey Sense but for Mom’s. It’s a real thing.) The car seats look pretty comfy. Nice, sturdy, safe. I feel like if I were a tiny human I would love to take a long, afternoon car ride nap-a-doo in one of these. Hubbz read all the ratings and these are pretty great middle of the road purchases. I’m reading the manual because my “type A” personality tells me I must. Hubbz pokes fun at me and reassures me he knows what to do- but alas, humors me anyway while I read cover to cover. #hegetsme
I am reading about “installing the latch in the rear-facing direction” and it hits me… My kid is getting a new carseat. While I know some of you seasoned Mama’s are rolling your eyes, I am over here fighting back eyehole leakage. I remember the first time I strapped my kid into his infant seat. I stood in the hospital room alone with him. Hubbz went to get the car and the nurse had left to get the wheelchair. I stood there looking at my son- kind of amazed they were letting me leave with him… Was I qualified to do this!? I double and triple checked the straps. Through my sleepless awe I remember looking at him and saying “Little guy, I’m not gunna be the perfect Mama, but I promise I will love you with reckless abandon.” While I would love to say he looked at me and smiled… He didn’t. He was fast asleep probably annoyed that this lady that wouldn’t stop holding him and kissing his little nosie was now talking to him. I checked the straps again and when the nurse came back, I asked her to please check them just to be safe. #TypeAPersonalityForTheWin.
Back at the kitchen table, I stand with the manual in my hand. The car seats are starting to get a little blurry because the tears are pooling. I try to brush it off but all I can think is that my baby boy isn’t a baby anymore. He’s a babbling, crawling, standing up on his own, 6 teefers in his mouth, little boy. I look up at Hubbz who, by the look on his face, is clearly confused as to what’s happening. I tell him that our little guy isn’t so little anymore… And then I ugly cry.
Nine months into this Mom Gig and I am convinced that motherhood is just a bunch of teary-eyed moments strung between a lot of laughs and a lot more WTF’s. I am realizing that each moment of motherhood is sacred and precious and beautiful. More than any of that, each moment is fleeting. (I invite you to remind me of this wonderful sentiment in the midst of chaos that is sometimes my life.)
This whole upgrading the car seat thing reminds me of two things:
1) Ferris Bueller was onto something profound. “Life moves pretty fast. If you don’t stop and look around once in awhile, you could miss it.” (See Mom, watching that movie so many times during my childhood really did pay dividends while adulting.)
2) The moments to make an impact on our son’s life are fleeting and we must make the most of them right now in this moment. There is so much we need to teach him about having a heart for the Lord, loving all people and being a loyal and trustworthy man. 18 years seems like eternity some days and other days, I know it will be just the blink of an eye.
The little infant seat that has securely toted around our son for the past nine months is officially retired for the time being. In it’s place, a big boy seat. With it comes the gentle reminder to slow down, embrace the moments and enjoy each stage of car seats.
So, I’d like to start dating again. And I don’t mean men.
What did she just say?!
Let me explain. You know how when you meet a new friend and you don’t jump right in, instead you date them for a while. Grab manicures or a quick lunch (you know, things with timeframes on them) to see if it’s a good fit. Then you grab a glass of Happy Hour or dinner- if that goes well, you introduce the husbands and see if they mesh. So like I said, I’d like to start dating again. Match-Maker, Match-Maker, make me a match. A Mom to have fun with, that’s a real catch. Where do I put out an ad for that? Is there a Tinder for Mom’s? This may sound crazy but I’ve thought about it a lot and I am totally serious… I need Mom friends. It all started a little over a week ago…
It’s a Saturday and my Mama, Baby Boy and I are galavanting around town picking up finishing touches for my house. I am standing in the checkout line at one of my favorite home stores. Actually, I’m not in line, I am flirting with getting in line while I peruse the trinkets that the store so carefully places in my path for the up-sale. (UGH, Damn you up-sale!) Baby Boy is cooing happily in his Baby Bjorn looking around at all the things. (Sidenote, I LOVE more than anything on the planet wearing Baby Boy in his carriers. It’s one of my favorite perks of Mommyhood.) Anyway, my Mama and I were in the midst of discussing candle scents when a woman interrupted us. She apologized but wanted to know how I liked my Baby Bjorn. I enthusiastically offered my thoughts. She thanked me and we both went on our way. The whole conversation was maybe 72 seconds long but it left me overjoyed to be able to talk to another Mom about Mom things. (Pre-Mommyhood Dez would have definitely rolled her eyes by now and checked the score to the Tigers game… It is not lost on me how the times have changed.)
Next store, Mama and I were in the checkout line and this time Baby Boy was sleeping snugly in his stroller. The lady in front of me turned a few times to look at my stroller and finally asked how I liked it because her and her husband were thinking about getting the same one. I again enthusiastically offered her my thoughts. This whole conversation took about 139 seconds and again I was left overjoyed to be able to talk to another Mom about Mom things. (Pre-Mommyhood Dez would definitely have assumed I went off the deep-end getting excited about baby strollers… Again, it is not lost on me how the times have changed.)
As I drove home with my Mama and Baby Boy I couldn’t help but think about these Mama’s that I briefly talked to. I wanted to text them to see how they liked their Baby Bjorn and stroller. (That’s possibly super weird… I know.) These interactions got me thinking about how radically my life has changed in these last seven months. Sometimes I look in the mirror and wonder who even am I anymore?! I know you might think I am kidding but I am FOR REAL! Do you know that I didn’t even watch the NFL Draft this year? Yeah, seriously. I settled for following it on my phone. Do you know I only watched half of the last day of the Master’s this year? Oy vey. Let’s not even talk about the fact that it’s mid-June and I have yet to pick up a golf club. I’m not going to lie, this makes me die inside a little.
In addition to finding my new identity while being a Mommy, I am learning that balancing friendships and Mommyhood is hard. I’ve realized that I have no idea where to meet other Mom’s with the same likes and interests as me. Where are all these fabulous Mom Groups I hear about? How do I find them? I am beginning to wonder if they are like good babysitters and delicious recipes… When you find a good one you keep it on the down-low so you don’t have to share… I mean, err, not that I do that or anything.
I feel like I need a dating app but for Mom’s… If it existed my profile would read:
Hi, I’m Dez. I am a Wifey of 10 years to Hubbz and we are first-time parents to a 7 month old baby boy who is our happy little miracle. We have a 5 lb. Maltese who is an old lady dog and thinks she’s a German Shepherd. I like yoga, football, the feeling of sand between my toes, Jameson on the rocks, delicious sushi, the game of golf, floppy hats and stilettos. I need me some Jesus like I need the air I breath… but I cuss like a sailor sometimes. When I am in the car alone I like to roll down the windows and drive with music cranked up as loud as it will go. I am a horrible singer, but I sing at the top of my lungs anyway. I love to hostess Dance Party USA in the middle of my living room any chance I get. I play a mean air guitar. My motto in life is “No pants are the best pants”. If you’re a Mommy interested in laughing till you pee a little and ruining your diet over Taco Tuesdays, by all means, #swiperight.
100 Days of Yoga has been interesting to say the least. I’m learning a lot about myself and my priorities. I’m learning even more about being mindful and living consciously. What is kicking my butt the most though is the fear. 100 Days of Yoga is terrifying and not for reasons you may think. It’s not the commitment or the physical activity that freak me out- it’s something horribly vain and kinda ugly. In my best effort to live my life out loud I gotta talk about the fugly.
100 Days of Yoga is terrifying because of the Social posts. Yep. Good old Social Media. (insert eyeroll) Everyday I Insta and Snap a pose of my yoga practice for the day. Here’s the problem… Have you ever seen a curvy Italian chick, 7 months post-partum with still a little junk in the trunk do yoga? I promise you, it ain’t all Lululemon and Lily Lotus models… It’s more like, “How do I duck tape down the boobies and make sure the bum of my pantalones don’t rip apart? Also, does this pose make me look fat? And where did that fat roll come from!? That’s not there when I stand up.” These are real thoughts that happen in my brain.
So here’s the thing I’ve realized. When I come to the mat, there’s no good downward-facing angle and selfie stick to accompany me. While I may be able to manipulate the Insta filters a little, at the end of the day, there is still a full-bodied full-body pose in that frame. That full-body pose full of imperfections laid out for all the world to see. For a girl that takes (probably) a little too much pride in her appearance, that’s terrifying to think about.
Each meeting with my mat brings me one meeting closer to being comfortable in my own skin. I am clinging to the verse in Psalms that reads “I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made. Wonderful are your works my soul knows it very well.” Note that I didn’t say I’ve mastered living that phrase… Just clinging to it, white knuckles and all.
I have come to peace with the fact that I am the proud owner of legs that resemble a running backs. And if we are being super honest, I will probably never in my life have a thigh gap. The thought of admitting that seemed terrifying but now that I actually typed it, I dig it! I thought this whole 100 Days of Yoga thing was just going to help me reshape my physical body… Turns out, it’s imploded my idea of what it means to be sexy and it’s reshaping my soul.
Habits. There are good ones and bad ones. Super beneficial ones and super quirky ones. We all have them and if we are being honest, we are creatures of them. We all have weird habits about the way we do life from waking up in the morning to how we interact with the world around us. Lately, I have been paying attention to these habits. Stopping the old habits that don’t serve me and incorporating new ones that do. In light of this, and totally by chance, I had a conversation recently with a friend and the 100 Day Project came up. While neither of us were currently participating, we did start brainstorming all the things that we could do for 100 days. I walked away from that conversation inspired. I was in that glorious space of not yet committed but definitely dreaming about what I wanted to do.
The glory was short lived… Because well, my sister. We all have that person that can literally talk you into anything… For me, that person is my sister. I don’t know how I feel about actually admitting that out loud. From waxing my arms when I was 11 (I’m Italian and boys are jerks at that age) to training for my first 25K run (I detest running). My sister has this profound ability to make me think the worst idea ever is the best thing since sliced bread… And let’s be super honest, I love me some bread.
Fast forward a few days from my crazy-inspiring conversation with my friend to a rainy Sunday FaceTime with my sweet sister. I made the mistake of telling her about my 100-Day conversation and how inspired I was. This is the spot in the blog where I allow you to insert a facepalm and call me a “Dummy” because I should have known better. By the time I hung up the phone I was completely and utterly on the hook for 100 days of Yoga. There was no rebuttal that could get me out of this and no excuse that she didn’t completely demolish.
So here we are… Day 1 of 100 Days of Yoga. My sister and I are doing it together so we are pretty excited for sister poses! If you want to follow along, I’ll be posting daily on Insta and Snap (@dezmelfi). 100 Days of Yoga begins today… Cheers to habits. Breaking them but more important than that, starting new ones!
Dear Sweet Baby Boy,
Today is my first Mama’s Day with you. Yes, I celebrated this day last year but it was different because I hadn’t yet seen your face. You were still growing and moving in my belly. This year though, I celebrate with you! I thought I had a happy and full life before God blessed us with you but I can honestly say it pales in comparison to what I have now. Sweet baby boy, you are my blessing.
I will never forget the sound of your first cry. Your Daddy and I looked at each other behind that big blue sheet in the operating room with tears in our eyes. 19 months of trying, 9 months of growing, 27 hours of labor, 2 hours of pushing and more prayers than you will ever know, you arrived! You took the world that your Daddy and I spent 14 years creating together and flipped it on its head. Everyday since your World Debut has been an adventure. There has been more laughing, joy and excitement than I can fathom sometimes. If we are being totally honest, there have also been tears and more “WTF am I doing” moments than I should probably admit. What can I say kid, Mommyhood isn’t always sunshine and roses… Thank God for His grace.
Baby Boy, the moment they laid you on my chest I looked at your alert little eyes looking back at mine and I made some promises to you, Mommy to her Baby Boy:
I promised you that I will be far from perfect, but I will always give my everything to be the best Mama you could ask for.
I promised I will make a million mistakes, but I will do my hardest to get it right.
I promised that I may not always like choices you make in your life, but my love will never waver and it will be given to you without conditions.
I promised that Daddy and I would raise you guided by 3 things: Jesus, Rules and Grace. Jesus because he is our everything. Rules because though I have spent most of my life thinking they were made to be broken, turns out they are a helpful boundary for being a good human. Grace because we are all imperfect, make a lot of mistakes and at the end of the day, in dire need of it.
Sweet boy of mine, while I know Mother’s Day is about celebrating being a Mommy, I can’t help but celebrate you. My joyful, inquisitive,
little very large bundle of love. You made me a Mommy and my life will never, ever be the same. I praise our Jesus for the incredible gift of Mommyhood. You, my son, have changed my life forever and it is the Best. Thing. Ever.