I won’t apologize for being ‘just a mom’

When I got into the world of ‘Mommy Blogging’ it was easy to swim in the pool of writing and reading about parenting.

After all, with two toddlers at sixteen months apart I had a permanent stool at the swim-up bar in the parenting pool. And I wasn’t leaving. Not even to pee. Cause really, that’s what chlorine is for.

Just joking…..or am I? (a little Health Inspector humour there for ya).


Then as my kids became toddlers and were less physically dependent on me I felt like I was being released from this tiny stagnant uriney pool of water. I could have physical free range to make a complete meal; leave for the day without throbbing breasts; sleep through the night; wear clothes that didn’t have elastic panels, snaps and buckles; let them run in the yard while I read a book.
 
And by book, I mean magazines on the library app and Pinterest


Around this time I also started hearing a little voice asking, ‘Hey Shawna, who are you beyond motherhood?‘. I joined a fabulous group of ladies who write about so much more than being a mother and I felt inspired by their constant wit and insight into a smattering of topics.  I wanted to break out of the ‘Mommy Blogger’ yard and run down the streets writing about anything and everything.

 
But I was still towelling off from the pool and had little poignant to say beyond my stories of motherhood. I felt like I was standing alone in a parking lot while everyone else did a chinese fire drill and drove off down the road to another cool adventure.
 
I had become a small and irrelevant voice in a sea of similar ones all called ‘Mom’. I was easy to forget and retelling yet another version of potty training adversities, rationalizing my dirty floors and hating on maternity shopping

Now I am pregnant again and due any day. I will be cannon-balling right back into that pool of parents who are clutching cups of coffee, assessing nap schedules and spending hours of their life in the same chair nursing and rocking their tiny dependent offspring.

 
Inevitably, any writing I do will be stories on motherhood or marriage. This time with more poop, fewer rules and acquiescence into the life I’ve created.  I, as a woman and blogger, won’t hold much meaning on mass media. Yet every day I, as a mom and wife, will determine the meaning of ‘home’ to the 3.9 I share a last name with (I know, totally sappy, but truth trumps sap in my books). 
So I won’t apologize for always having a basket of unfolded laundry on my table.
 
 
I won’t apologize for making awkward jokes about my kid peeing on your floor (but I will make you waffles when they do pee on your floor).
 
 
I won’t apologize for sharing their adorable faces on Facebook so my aunt can remind me how cute they are.
 
 
I won’t apologize for not having what you call a ‘life beyond motherhood’ – because
a) motherhood matters and
b) I have babies and freedom comes in short sweet doses that I use to be self-indulgent, dance to salt n peppa and get day drunk.


Right now you see ‘just a mom‘ and maybe some days (months, years) that’s all I get to be. What I’ve learned is that motherhood is a process that breaks me down and rebuilds me. Every day in motherhood I’m learning about my own insecurities, weaknesses and strengths as a woman, wife and mom.  

 

I have learned to live in complete monotony and useless circadian rhythms and to take ownership over things I am passionate about. I see that it is up to me to make choices to find passion in my daily life. It may not look how I expected or what I see others doing. But when I find happiness in perfection in everyday moments, I know that being ‘just a mom’ is a gift, a season, a privilege, a trial, and it is worth showing up for


____

With that I want to give a full body, uncomfortably-long bear hug to all my readers – especially those who share and comment and send me messages that keep me motivated to keep writing when I feel like logging off. I share this journey with you and I think you guys rock and hope to one day drink a Tom Collins with each of you personally and hear your stories. 
 

 

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