This past week a couple things have reminded me that my new role as a mom is ever-evolving.
As we were heading out the door for our evening walk, Josh and I had a conversation that went like this :
Me: “Do you think I look like a mom?”
I’m fishing. I want to hear, “No–you still look totally young, hip, and childless!”
Josh: “Yeah–you sure do!”
Me: “Oh. Really? What looks ‘mom-like’ about me?”
Josh: “I don’t know. You just look like a mom!”
I should have stopped here. Josh sincerely doesn’t know, but I prodded.
Me: “Well, what specifically makes me look like a mom? Is it my comfy sandals? The tan shorts?”
Josh (who still feels like he’s paying me a compliment): “I really don’t know. You just look like Caleb’s mommy.”
My head is now a little lower, and I’ve superficially painted a new image of myself in my mind: frumpy momma.
Then Josh says, “I know why…it’s because you have a baby on your hip.”
Two things are demonstrated here: (1) a reinforcement of the fact that my well-intentioned husband and I communicate differently, and (2) as a new mom, I have an inner struggle to embrace a new image. First off, if being frumpy and bedraggled were prerequisites for being a mom, I would still have signed up to be a mom–in a heartbeat. But, thankfully, they’re not. However, the role of mom occasionally comes with feelings of frumpiness: I’m wearing comfy clothes for the constant bending, food hurling, and ever-present drooling that are now my routine. But, I cannot let myself become “the frumpy one,” nor can I start to see myself as “the frumpy one.” And, I also cannot become obsessed with being “frumpy.” Balance, I tell myself. Again and again.
I’ve really enjoyed Pinterest–lots of great recipes, home interior ideas, and random humor. As of late, I’ve also noticed a ridiculous amount activities for children on Pinterest. I pin now, and hope to look later. But, the more activities that I see, the more I feel insecure in my role as mom. Shouldn’t I be doing more with Caleb? He eats, plays, sleeps, and cuddles. But, I don’t have any sort of checklists or activity books. Then, I saw this wonderful post entitled “For The Overwhelmed Young Mother.” In Connie’s open letter, she writes,
You don’t need lesson plans for your toddler to learn to walk. You don’t need a list of materials, or objectives, or instructions.
Don’t be fooled into thinking your child won’t thrive unless you are making marks on a checklist.
Your child only needs your time, your love, and your attention.
The entire post serves as a great reminder of the big picture. And, it really helped this ever-evolving, young momma take a chill pill