Becoming a parent has had a bunch of consequences on my life, one of which was completely unexpected… It made me an honest to god grownup.
I admit that I really believed that I was a full fledged adult when I became a mother, I was 29 for god’s sake. I surely had this life thing figured out, right? After giving birth, I soon realized that I had some personality traits that were…ahem…not quite at their peak maturity.
Taking care of myself
Before I was a mom I took great care of how I looked on the outside but didn’t pay much attention to how things were working on the inside. From time to time I was known to let my Thyroid medication prescription run out. I could live on candy alone, and going to bed after midnight wasn’t something I thought much of, not to mention riding on the back of scooters in third world countries. After my first was born I VOLUNTEERED to have my blood drawn to have my thyroid levels checked, even with a pretty significant fear of needles. My inner child was horrified and begged me to run, what kind of masochist had I become? I could probably still live on candy alone, but now I add a few servings of greens with my Twizzlers. I don’t even need to tell you the list of reasons that going to bed earlier is now necessary. The transition to keeping geriatric hours happened quite abruptly.
Life insurance, minivan, spf 50, cotton underwear, food allergies, buying shoes for comfort, picking meals based on how easy they are to eat with one hand, nap schedules, germs, childproof…Need I say more?
Not about me
When my baby was born he was lacking certain empathetic genes that prevented him caring if I was getting enough sleep. Shockingly, he was not at all concerned. Even now, as a two year old, he can see that I am carrying his baby sister, 9 bags of groceries, the diaper bag, a toy dinosaur and the house keys and he will hand me his sippy cup because his “hands are getting cold.” There is no taking it easy on me because I am stressed out. Simply put; my kids don’t give a shit about what other demands I have, they need what they need from me and it is my job to give it to them.
Clearer understanding of others
Being a parent has made me a better human. By no means am I implying that this is a requirement for others but apparently, it was for me. My grandmother had eleven children. That’s right, ELEVEN. I never knew her but I felt a new sense of respect for her after just one pregnancy let alone the child rearing involved. Likewise, to all of the mothers I saw walking around I wanted to give them a sincere high five or at the very least, a chest bump as a congratulations them on just gestating. As a teacher I also became more tender towards my students. When my patience would be running low I would remember that each student was someone else’s pain in the ass that they loved more than the world.
Accepting no awards
This one is the hardest for me to admit and probably still the hardest one for me to deal with. When I get up five times a night to rock a sick baby who only wants her mom, there is no one there in the morning to tell me what a good job I did, no one congratulated me. When I pump breast milk while simultaneously “encouraging” a toddler and keeping my grabby baby away from the tubes attached to my chest, no one really cares. These are huge feats or sacrifices to me but this is just what moms do so I get no standing ovations, I don’t even get a “thanks” from my offspring. I just do it because I love these squishies and it is what has to be done. Don’t get me wrong, my husband is very appreciative but when I have to list off my daily accomplishments for recognition, it sort of loses its appeal.
My kids are currently 2.5 and 8 months, so I am sure I have fully reached maturity and there are no more lessons to learn…. right?