I'm half-mom, half-zombie--a real mombie as my son jumps out of his bed and leaps onto my sleeping body. "Wake up, time to put on your make up...mooooom!", he enthusiastically shouts. I am not a morning person so I make a few grunts in response. He starts to braid my hair but forgets I have a super sensitive head of hair. Now I am awake. Awake, awake, awake!
In his toddler voice he tells me, "I need chocolate gilk." I have a debate in my head on whether I want him to have a drink with sugar that early (it might buy me five more minutes of much-needed sleep) or if I want to offer him water. The chocolate gilk wins.
I am wearing my mom uniform comprised of my husband's really large t-shirt (but it is so soft!) and my capri leggings. I really do look like a mombie as I make my way to the refrigerator with one pant leg up and another down. My socks resemble elf shoes because they have begun to make their way off my feet.
My dog is also a morning person. He is happily jumping through my legs and excited that I am alive and moving. Why does everyone in my house have to be a morning person?!? I literally hiss at the morning sunlight. That is why every window has blinds and curtains in this house.
Fast forward ten years. That little boy is 12 now. I am still not a morning person and still a mombie. I always aimed to be one of those moms that had everything together--one of those that could leave the house early and be on time everywhere with perfect hair and stain-free clothing and children that looked picture perfect ready. I never got there.
Now the alarm goes off multiple times while I hit snooze. I have to be the one to wake him up to get him ready for school. "Baby, wake up!" He grunts a few times in response and tells me he is no longer a baby. I watch as he picks his clothing for the day out of multiple piles he has in his room. Oh, these were once folded neatly and given to him to put away. He claims he knows what is in each pile.
Today we went with the wrinkled, faded skeleton shirt and basketball shorts--his pre-teen uniform. "Hey, have some milk or something to eat for breakfast." I try to force feed him because I have mother's guilt that he will starve to death. "Mooommm...I'm not hungry."
I miss those days of chocolate gilk.
Enjoy your children at all stages of their lives. I love my son now as a brooding tweenager and I loved him just as much when he was my messy toddler. And don't worry abou being that pulled together, perfect mom. There is no fun in perfection or in comparing yourself to others. Embrace the wildness; the daily chaos. Because it goes by too fast.
Here are some more Honest Moments...