Not just a Pinterest mom.

Admin
May 27, 2017
5 min read

I am not quite sure how it happened. But it did. My little boy turned TWO years this week and I am pretty astonished at how quickly the time has passed me by since I became a mother. I remember not quite being sure how to even change a diaper or feed the child. Hoping there would be some course the hospital would offer before I left or send me home with a home health nurse to be sure the kid would make it in my care. I remember bringing the tiny bundle home, terrified of breaking him. I remember looking down at him in the middle of the night, wondering how it could be that I AM A MOM. I remember thinking to myself how amazing it is that people younger than me have multiple tiny people under their care. I wondered how they became such natural born mothers.

Here I am, two years later. I have been pooped on, puked on, and peed on. I have been asked to pick his nose. I have been asked to smell his feet. I have held my child while he vomited all down the hallway from the stomach bug. I have slept with him through high temperatures and the scary "tunda torms" of spring. I have walked away from him to let him get through the tantrums. I have worked through multiple discipline sessions over not eating his food. I have been kicked in the shins and smacked across the face. I have been told "I wuv you mommy" with a big wet kiss following shortly behind. Yes, I would say I am no longer the terrified, naive creature I once was. I have learned what it is to be a mom.

Oh the many, many things motherhood entails. Many of which I have yet to even think about, such as puberty and teen years. Oh please someone come help me when that happens....

One thing I do know about being a momma, is the amount of criticism and comparison which goes down. Oh yes, it is there. I have felt it. I know it well already, even though I am quite new to the overall motherhood scene.

See, we may not even realize it is happening. We MAY even be doing it to OURSELVES. I know I do. How? Well, the most recent example would be my son's birthday party.

Man, oh man. Was I ever excited about Ben's second birthday party. I mean legitimately, could not sleep type of excited. See, I had been creeping all over Pinterest for months. I had a theme, and I was going with it! Ben loves tractors. John Deere tractors to be precise. So I planned to center the party all around his green machine love. It was well planned and thought over from pretty much the time he turned one plus a day. Every time it came to mind I would participate in some scrolling. I had my theme, I had my plan, I had it all pinned and ready for execution. Well, let me pause here and say how much of a love hate relationship I have with Pinterest. I absolutely adore the ideas, the crafts, the everything it has to offer. I have created board after board in my mindless scroll time (which I hate to admit, but you know you do it) about this and that, home and family, DIY and purchases. You name it, all can be found on my Pinterest boards. So, why do I hate it? The expectations it creates. As I continued to pin more and more, the expectations of how the party "needed" to look grew. This idea and that idea. All SO cute and all new ideas I HAD to bring to life. At the time I did not realize how much I had invested, all due to the massive amounts of stuff it has to offer. So as my expectations grew, so did my criticism and comparison of the party I was planning.

Well, fast forward, the party set up went just as I had hoped. It was Pinterest worthy.

So easy. So cute. All done just right. Homemade cake, creative decor. Even the party went wonderfully. Everyone had so much fun. Children played and were covered in gross. The adults visited and had a relaxing time, despite their tiny people running wild. Food was devoured. Children fussed when they had to leave, the sure fire sign they were not faking, it truly was a fun activity for them. Cleanup was no big deal, family helped and the house was all put back together. I was beaming with joy at the end of the day. Tired, yet happy my little boy and all his friends had such a blast. It was then, once the party had been thrown, the visitors had returned home, and everything settled back into its normal place that I received a picture. A friend sent me a few photos she snapped at the party. One of them stood out to me the most. One which refocused all of my efforts, emotions, and goals. It was a picture taken when the group was singing happy birthday to Ben. And it was then, looking at this precious picture, I realized this is the mom I have always wanted to be.

The mom who is always excited for the child. The mom who encourages. The mom who cheerleads. The mom who is in his corner. And for the first time, I realized I had become the mom I had always hoped and prayed I would be. It does not matter the parties I throw or the events I host. It does not matter how many Pinterest ideas are laced all through my planning. Instead it matters that I am "that mom". The mom I always want to be.

See, I was a afraid of being a mom. In fact one of the last conversations I had with my dad before he passed was telling him how scared I was of being a mother, that I would not do it right or know what to do. I was afraid I would mess my kid up. I would let him down. I would do too much or I would do too little. I would not be the mom he needs. But it came fast and without my recognizing. I did not have to be afraid of being a mom, or that I would fall short. In two short years, I found what it meant to Ben's mom.

To me, being the mom I want to be is loving harder than you ever thought possible. Caring so deep, your bones ache when they are hurt. Being stronger than you knew you could be. Holding them when their fears are ridiculous or when they are covered in gross bodily fluids. Encouraging when no one else can say a positive word. Being mom is not a job to be taken lightly, and so often underestimated. Even I have discovered I underestimate the time I invest into my household and children. Pulling back on working humbled me and showed me how the error I possessed in valuing the monetary amount earned versus the time invested in family and home.

So no, I am not just a Pinterest mom, I am Ben's mom. It does not matter how I do his parties, events, or activities. It does not matter what it looks like or if I have done enough. It is pointless to worry with extra details and wonder what others think. What matters is I am the one special picked to raise him, love him, pray for him, and care for him. The one who will cheer him, discipline him, and help him. The one who will fail at times and fall short of her own expectations. The one who is not just a Pinterest mom, but I am mom. And that is good enough.