Friday, August 12, 2011


Did any of you, after moving to your first place on your own, ever come to the realization that you "had arrived." You know, like realizing that after three days with the same dirty dishes in the sink that the someone who was going to have to wash them was you? That the piles of laundry growing up in weren't, in fact, folded by the Folding Fairy, but by someone who had a vested interest in the maintenance of the home?

I've had many such moments in the past six years, some of them were rough; others laughable. Then, after a while, they didn't even phase me. Growing up, when your mother diligently cleaned the dog vomit off of the carpet, or the dirty diaper that the baby managed to smear all over the crib, it's not that she was particularly fond of doing these tasks, but that she was so accustomed to doing such things that not much phased her by then.

Truly, I am convinced that in the "arrived" category, that after six years, I cannot be shocked. Yes, I cried the first time I had to nurse a baby while sick in the bathroom, but by the time I two kids and was sick while nursing in the bathroom, instead of crying, I was just thankful that the three year old was keeping himself busy by racing his cars on the bathroom floor.

I think back to college when I would get irritated that I was spending my money on things like deodorant and toothpaste instead of new shoes. Today I'd much rather spend money on those things than water softener pellets or toilet cleaner.

Growing up is tough stuff. And really, as much as a person might be prepared for it, the shocking realization that you have a lot to care of besides yourself inevitably makes a person either grow up, or stop trying.

So, on this Friday, here's to Moms! If you have letter magnets on your fridge and a Blue's Clues bath mat on your bathtub, I salute you! If you're digging peanut butter out of the cracks in the kitchen table and scraping dried oatmeal off the walls, I salute you! If you do laundry every stinkin' day of the week, I salute you!

If you have nursed a baby in the bathroom, at a truck stop, or in a bar, I salute you!

We have arrived.


Sarah said...

As I sit here waiting for a block of red pasta sauce to thaw out in a pan on my stove (as quickly as possible without burning) because I forgot to plan something for lunch, I can't help but laugh at your post. Thanks for the salute!

Erin said...

The hardest mommy pill for me to swallow has been when I get sick realizing that nobody is going to take care of me (and, by the way, the children still need to be cared for!) My husband is not taking work off because sick days are few and precious, and let's face it, he's probably getting it next. When I get sick in the middle of the night and don't make it to the bathroom (or, more likely, someone else does make it out of bed, but rather than to the bathroom, they run to my bed) and I wind up with puke covered sheets, those sheets aren't magically replaced by fresh smelling ones. Wasn't that great as a kid? I'm glad to know my kids always have a fresh bed to crawl into after they puke. It makes it worth it knowing the comfort I can give them.

You're doing great, now get back to that dried oatmeal! :-)

Mallory said...

Ugh, I nearly forgot how awful it is to be really sick and then have a full household to still take care of! Yes, there have been a few days where Mark HAD to take a sick day because I was physically incapable to caring for the boys. I can't believe I forgot about that one!