Moms- fake it til you make it.

There were only two times my mom truly ever scared the crap out of me. Once when I was little and sassed my Grandma. Can we say...spankings? The second time I was much older, 16-17 maybe and she had had enough (I can't even remember why now). She stopped what she was doing and in her very "mom" voice yelled, "I HAVE HAD IT!" I think everyone stopped dead in their tracks and literally feared for their lives. 

These two instances put just enough fear into me to never, ever cross my mother. She always jokingly would say, "I brought you into this world and I can take you right back out." I believe her. 

Love that woman. People who know her might not actually believe the stories above, because she is truly one of the greatest women to ever walk the planet. She will do anything for anybody at anytime, no questions asked. Can there be a greater mother than that?

I still don't feel like I fit into this category. "Mother." A mother is MY mom. She knows everything, how to do everything (well), how to play the part of everything- with little to no formal training. I cannot possibly be in this category.

But, given the fact there is a beautiful little girl upstairs curled up in the tiniest corner of her crib with her bum up for all to see, I suppose I've made my way into this crowd. 

 I'm still in foreign territory when it comes to being all things "mom." I learn things through trial and error, right along with my clumsy 9 month old, most times. Everything is just as new for me as it is for her. Hopefully she'll remember that when she's 16 and hormonal. I'll tell her "No, I don't actually know what I'm doing. And neither do you." Maybe my second kid will actually get some experienced parenting. 


I clearly remember the day I earned my new title, like it was yesterday. I remember waking up in the middle of the night to the first contraction thinking, "that felt different...could it be?" I remember deciding that trying to put on mascara between contractions was a really dumb idea in the few minutes before we left to the hospital (a choice I would actually later regret after seeing post-birth pictures). I remember my doctor telling a story about his son on a church mission in between my pushes. I remember bringing her home, sleeping in her car seat, thinking "oh crap...don't wake up...I don't know what to do with you when you wake up." (Sometimes I still think that..)


I wonder if my mom ever thinks that about any of us? "I don't know what to do with you when..." She sure doesn't show it. Perhaps that is when you know you've really joined the exclusive and privileged club of motherhood...you've mastered the art of fakery and have a highly developed poker face.