On motherhood

I miss blogging. I have been dying to blog! There are so many things I want to blog about! But I have so many other things to do, that blogging gets pushed back indefinitely. And everyday that I don't get here is another day's worth of topics floating around in my head, and then I just get overwhelmed, forget them all, and start over.

Laurie's post inspired me this morning. I don't have people loudly complaining (or complaining at all) when I don't blog (though sometimes I wish I did), but she inspired me nonetheless.

What I've been meaning to blog about: response to another fantastic post by Meagan Francis. I don't remember which post it was, or when she wrote it, or I'd link directly to it. I just spent the last ten minutes looking for it, which also happened to be the last ten minutes of D's nap, so now I'm trying to finish this with a squirmy baby on my lap. So far so good!

Where was I?

Meagan's post was about the responsibility that comes with motherhood. Not just parenthood, but motherhood. There's something special about Mom. And it's not just that she can feed baby and no one else can until he's been introduced to a bottle. I didn't understand or realize this until I read her post. I thought it was a parent thing and that C and I were equal partners. I would often lament/scold that I was the only one who got everything needed together when we went out. Why couldn't he remember the sippy cup of water for once? But after reading Meagan's post, I realized that it was probably unrealistic of me to expect him to take over sometimes. He's just not wired for it. It's my responsibility and privilege to remember the sippy cup.

The exclusiveness of my role as Mom was further revealed to me over the holidays while we had family visiting. They always looked to me. If there was a question regarding one of the boys, it was me they turned to, expecting me to have all the answers and tell them what to do. I remember the same thing when Z was a baby. My internal response was often, "but you (speaking to my mom or my mother-in-law) have more experience with babies, shouldn't you know what to do?" I realize now that it wasn't just about raw number of hours caring for children, it's also a question of whose children they are!

Another example: Z picked up a cold (at the dr's office, again) and kindly shared it with as many of us as he could, including his 1-month old brother. (I tell ya, there's nothing sadder than a congested infant!). As C and I were getting ready to go to sleep, we listened to D's congested breathing and C commented that I was an amazing woman. "Why? What do you mean?" I asked. He explained that I had a sleepless night ahead of me, but that I was going to do it (care for sick D). I had two simultaneous reactions. One was positive ("Yes, I AM going to take care of my baby!") and the other was negative ("You don't have work tomorrow, why do I have to be the only one who suffers?").

Yes, I am Mommy (hear me roar!). I forget sometimes, and get irritated at C (and other family), but in the end, I wouldn't trade it for anything! (Though I wouldn't have minded being able to finish this post in one sitting without infant and toddler interruptions...)