Lessons in Motherhood

While cleaning out my home office I came across some documents I had clearly meant to hang onto but lost track of their existence.  A few pictures from college days gone by (who thought Toga parties were a good idea? Sheets are clearly never an attractive look), cards from special occasions, letters I had written, etc.  Among the collection was a note I had written to some girlfriends as they were getting ready to have their first child.  GG at the time must have been around 2, and the transformation of going from partner to parent was something that was clearly uncharted territory for so many of us.  Given all of that uncertainty, I had wanted to capture some words of reassurance that yes, everything you are experiencing and feeling is all normal.  Entering Motherhood is kind of like this secret sorority where you want to convey that the initiation process is life changing (ok, really more like the worst form of hazing imaginable) but worth it in the end.  Some amazing women at my office (you know who you are) were experiencing this same transformation with welcoming their first little ones into the world, and I thought about giving them a copy of the letter, but as I read it I had some different perspectives now that 13 years have gone by.  Instead, I decided to capture both here, for all parents.   My initial thoughts are first, added commentary second…

Now that you are a Mom….

 

It's OK that babies don't come with a set of instructions, and you might second guess every decision you make. 

 

You should know that this never changes.  There is something new to figure out at every stage, at every age, and with every kid.  Oh, and it tends to get more difficult when they starting having something called “opinions of their own and ability to make decisions” because they often conflict with your own.  Learn to suck it up now.   

 

It's OK that that now all your priorities change.

This was kind of a lie.  As in, the lies we tell ourselves to make up for the fact that I no longer feel that shaving my legs is a priority.   I've learned the importance of continuing to put yourself on the top part of the important list, and that doesn’t make you selfish.  It only makes you a better mom.

 

It's OK that sometimes you will laugh and cry, and not always know why. 

Oh yeah, that never changes, and after a while you really can’t blame the baby anymore.  I suggest getting a list of ideas at the ready for such moments…  such as its Tuesday.

 

It's OK that sometimes you might have to leave your screaming child safely in another room while you walk away and count to 10, just because you need a break. 

This is a good lesson.  I have learned this also works with screaming husbands, clients and employees.

 

It's OK that you may feel that you are losing a sense of who you are, as long as you never really do. 

So,  I’ve learned that really you do loose who you are- or more accurately, who you were.  You are always growing and changing, and just becoming who you were meant to be.  Along the way you just can’t lose the fun chick who is still willing to dance all night in shoes that are not mommy shoes regardless of the fact that they make your feet hurt because they look damn hot and knows she can still get hit on regardless of some well concealed stretch marks. Just know that after a night on the town if you should happen to wake up the next morning and are still feeling the night before this takes on a whole new challenge with kids. 

 

It's OK that when you first get home from the hospital, that for the first few days taking a shower is a big accomplishment. 

This can actually apply to any life situation, again, such as a Tuesday.  Change is hard, but it remains the one constant in life.   Sometimes, in the midst of it all, you need to cut yourself some slack for accomplishing even some of the simplest tasks.

 

It's OK that everyone will give you advice, and you listen to what your heart tells you. 

Regardless of the situation- True.

 

It's OK that you go to work and you find spit-up on your shoulder, and it doesn't faze you. 

This continues with forgotten lunches, last minute requests for science project supplies, frantic calls about missing the bus, etc.  It’s crazy how much you learn to take in stride.

 

It's OK to ask for help, and to take it when it is offered.

“I just looked, and yep, no giant S on my shirt so quite trying to be Superwoman”  every woman should say to herself every. single. day. 

 

It's OK to want things done a certain way because you are the mommy. 

I've learned to let things go.  No- really.  Ask my mother-in-law about the binder of instructions the first time they watched GG as a baby.  The pages were laminated.  I'm not kidding.  I have come a long way.

 

It's OK that you will find yourself saying and doing things to your child that your parent did to you, and you swore you would never repeat. 

Trust me, just start saving for the therapy now, because there is no avoiding this one. There is a part of you that will become your parents.

 

It's OK that now you can run on half the amount of sleep, and do twice as much. 

Hate to tell you, you probably won’t get a good night's sleep for at least the next 20 years. Invest in some strong coffee and quality eye cream -stat.  

 

It's OK to feel that the love for your child is almost overwhelming. 

Now, this one does change.  Hard to believe knowing how much you love them as those cute bundles of joy and think every smile and milestone the kid makes is next to sheer genius,  but this only continues to grow.  Grow so much that it takes over your heart.  Grow so much as they become who they are supposed to be, ask inquisitive questions, test the rules and frustrate you for remembering that the older one got a new bike at 10 and yet can’t remember to change her socks or brush her teeth.  That they start to have opinions and preferences all their own, and grow into these small adults that you can have real, meaningful conversations with.  And they drive you crazy, and it can be overwhelming, but at some point you quickly realize that you have them for only this short window of time, and then they are grown and an their own, so then suddenly the challenges just don’t seem to matter as much. 

 

And with that in mind, this is a new one I would add…

It OK to want to have them stay little for just a bit longer, because the time goes by faster than you can ever imagine.

A Tale of Two Cities

Michigan has been on my mind a lot lately.  There is the fact that it seems to be coming up in random conversations, from work issues to occasional comments I pick up on here and there.   As in most things in life, this is no coincidence.  The reality is that I have been feeling this growing desire to go back.  Actually, it’s more than a desire- it is a flat out need.  The need to go and revisit the place where I am from.  Where I left three years ago and believe that this place- where I grew up- would no longer recognize me as the person I am now as I cross the state line.  The place where I will nervously return to in just a matter of weeks.

Michigan, where I am from, is this paradox of industry and beauty.  Where people are connected through the common thread of automotive giants to the countless lakes that we live by or vacation on.  It’s a place where you don’t see the sun for months, but you are so used to the winter gray that you just don’t know any different;  it seems to just blend into the remains of the last snow fall that is now slush piled to the side of the road.  But all of that is easily forgotten when the seasons change and the State comes alive.  The beauty of Michigan is unparalleled.  And while I may be biased, I feel that I have done my fair share of travel and can appreciate the striking beauty of Scottsdale to the picturesque surroundings of the Cape- but I guess the saying is true that there is no place like home. 

Michigan is where I became who I am- where I spent every family vacation navigating the waters of the Great Lakes and learned to love the Big Ten.  In college I knew what it was truly like to walk up hill both ways in 2 feet of snow as I trudged to class (and perhaps to Waldo’s.  And by that I clearly mean the library, not the bar.)  It was where I took my girls sledding for the first time- on the same hill where I went as a child- and I relived my memories while they created theirs.  It’s the place I knew every street, called out neighborhoods by those who lived there and the elementary school they are associated with.  Where the real four seasons are Fall, Winter, Spring and Construction, and everyone has a great venison recipe. Where every milestone event of my life took place- first loves, real friendships, graduations, wedding, first house, first child, second house, second child, and countless more memories with great friends and family- lived 93% of my life- all until I left.

Georgia is where I live now.  It is the splendor of sunshine, nature, overly polite people, amazing food and a slower pace that I am still not used to.  It is the place where I hike up a mountain, surrounded by Civil War battle fields that live in infamy.  Where people are outside all the time- because they can be.  Locals let you into traffic, slow down to let a pedestrian cross, let an elderly person have their seat and use Y’all and Yes Ma’am more often than not.  Where I find myself using Yes Ma’am more than I would like to admit.  Where the landscape of the North Georgia Mountains calls my name every spring and fall, and I so easily get lost in all its wonder.  I have learned that a true Southern conversation starts with “What’s your family name and what church do you go to?”  That the genuine sense of community is just that- genuine - and it still makes me feel uneasy because as much as I know it’s true I tend not to trust it (getting better at that, though).  Where football and BBQ are a religion, both fueled with such intense emotion that you can feel the electricity in the air when two people are discussing their following for either.  Where apparently anything looks better with a monogram, and girls still wear bows in their hair so big you wonder how they don’t topple over. 

And both of these places have made me who I am.  I still like to reference that I am from Detroit because there is a certain Bad-Assness that comes with it, and yes I’ll let you think that I know all about 8 mile if you don’t know any different.  The street smarts I learned in Detroit- walking to the Fox, catching games at The Joe- I carry with me everywhere, as I do the love of multiple cultures that I learned working in Dearborn and having my dad take me to Eastern Market.  Where I miss my city, my state, and wear my mid-west roots with pride- but yet am honestly afraid to return because as much as I have changed, I know that it has to.  I want to remember the old times- the better times- and revel in those versus the uneasy feeling of trying to understand who the other one is now, and having to admit that perhaps we just don’t “fit” anymore.  Where I have taken many lessons from the South- how to talk a little nicer, walk a little slower, and that it really is normal to speak to strangers on the street.  That learning to embrace my femininity is a gift, and being “girly” does not make you weak.  That boiled peanuts sold from the back of a pick up truck off the side of the road can be a delicacy, and that southern food is truly made with love.  And while no one has yet to be able to say our Polish last name, they all just smile and accept you just the same… and I have yet to fully understand how these lessons apply to the Northern part of me.

I have to admit, when I think about it, neither place truly feels like home.   But I do know that I take the lessons that each place has taught me wherever I go. Each place has molded me into who I am now.  Michigan- in what was created in my core- strength, resilience, an undying passion to make it, to survive.  And in thinking about it, that is exactly what Georgia has taught me as well- strength, resilience, and undying passion to make it, to survive- just in another way. 

And should I ever live anyplace else, I know that I will gain these same gifts from wherever it is that I end up.  But maybe that’s all you can ask for; that while perhaps you don’t immediately think of a place as home, if your heart does in the moments that you are there, that’s the most you can ask for.  Because in the end, every place changes you just a little bit into the special, unique and strong person that these places has molded you to be.

And most importantly, will always be a part of who you are.