When I was a little girl, I dreamed of being a mom. I was one of those kids that wrote out her children’s names from the time I could even write. I had a boy list and a girl list. I had so many dreams for my future children and my future spouse. As I grew older, those desires never changed. I remember sitting in class during high school, writing out my children’s names on paper, along with different middle names that would sound good with them. I would day dream about my future husband and how perfect our life would be together and how wonderful of a wife and mom I would be. I would surely be the next June Cleaver.
Well folks, fast forward a few years. I was married to a great man, realizing more and more everyday that marriage was far from a bed of roses. I once read that marriage is a walk in the park…Jurassic Park! Heck yes it is! And where did June go?! She was nowhere to be found. Reality had set in that life was much different than my little 15 year old heart had imagined. Sure, I was very happy and life was good, but life was not a fairytale- life was real! And then it came time for the children, the ones who I had been “doodling” their name for years. Being a mother was my biggest dream. After a couple of years of marriage, I was ready. We both were. Like most young women, I assumed that when I was ready- that was that. I would become pregnant when I wanted, have a picture perfect pregnancy where I would love every second (after all, it is all I had ever wanted) and give birth naturally to a beautiful baby that I would take home and be the most amazing mother ever to. Sure, that is how my little mid twenty year old self thought. Um…yeah. So that is not at all how that worked out for me. For nearly 4 long years, I struggled with infertility. Never had I given one ounce of thought to the fact that I may ever struggle to have a baby. Not me. I was healthy, young, slim, blah blah and so on. There were no “good” reasons for me to not conceive. Surely this wasn’t real life. But it was. I began to sink. I struggled so much with this reality that I MAY not have children. Sure, deep down I felt like I would…but would I? When you hope every month is “the month”, only to be let down again, depression can quickly set in and your joy can diminish. I didn’t want my joy to diminish. I didn’t want this reality to define me, but little by little it felt as though it was. Why me? Why do people who long to get pregnant struggle, while those who could not care less about a child have them popping out like skittles in a candy machine? I truly didn’t understand. But, in the midst of the trials, I found peace. I was not any more happy about where I found myself, but I was at peace. I started understanding that my timing was not God’s timing. It rarely is. So, I waited and waited…and after a miscarriage that hurt me to my core and a few more months of tests and a surgery- I found myself reading a pregnancy test with 2 pink lines. It was one of the best moments of my life. All I could do was thank God over and over and over….and cry of course.
Becoming a mother for the first time was unlike anything I had ever experienced. And guess what, becoming a mother for the second time was exactly the same. Those 2 kids had my whole heart from day 1. They still do. In fact, I gave up a very good, public job in order to stay home with them and work my business from home…just so that I could be for them what I always dreamed of being. I wanted to be there, like REALLY be there. I wanted to share in their little moments. I wanted to be the mom I had always dreamed of being. I wanted to be the wife that my husband deserved. I no longer wanted to come home frantic from work, just to work more…and then bam, off to bed with zero time with those I love. I didn’t want that. The money didn’t matter. I just wanted the time. I wanted to be June. I knew she was in there somewhere, dang it! I was determined that once I made it home, I would be better. I would do better. I mean, didn’t they deserve that from me?
I have been home for a year and a half now. Man, it feels like 10 days, and that is no joke. Time is flying by. In fact, I think it is flying faster than before. How is that possible?? And after looking back on all of my intentions and dreams and goals…from a little girl- I realized something today. I am a honey bun mom. I didn’t want to be one, but I am. I wanted so bad to be a June Cleaver mom. I wanted to be pleasant, always sporting a beautiful smile and looking like a 10- even if I felt like a 2. I wanted to have dinner on the stove every night, with little well behaved kids smiling at the door waiting for their dad. I sure did want it. But nope. Didn’t happen. Instead, I am a frantic, running crazy, wild woman of a mom who loses her temper far too often and has to carry a honey bun with her little K4 daughter in the car to eat on the way to school, because she couldn’t get her crap together good enough to even make a simple bowl of cereal that morning. That’s real life. That’s the real mom I have become. Congrats to all the June’s out there. I am feeling more like Honey Boo Boo’s mom. At first, as I thought about this today…I felt almost sad. Why is it that despite my best intentions, I can’t get myself together enough to do all of the things I want to do? Well…I really did think about that a lot throughout my day, and I realized a few things. The reason I am what I am is because I DO put my all into everything that I do, including being a mommy. The reason I am running late is because I am letting my little girl lay on my chest longer than I should, simply because I love to feel her next to me and feel her breathe. The reason I am tired is because I stay up each night, worrying about the next day and if I have everything done, getting blog posts written because I am bound and determined to make it a success for my family. The reason I don’t look like a 10 everyday is because I am not a 10. I am an average 6. HAHA. Only so much you can do, folks! And most days, I don’t have on my best clothes. Why? Well, probably because I have to change at least twice a day because of all of the messes that I manage to make trying to do fun things with the kids or creating fun treats that I know they will enjoy. So, when my hubby walks in and sees the house a mess sometimes, I hope he always knows that I truly was trying to make memories. I truly was trying to be present. I truly was trying to be the mom I always dreamed I would be. And when I lay my head down tonight, I pray that I can come to a peace that all of this is more than enough…and that are plenty of honey buns in the pantry.