Isn’t it the best when you connect with other mom friends you can share those candid moments of motherhood with? You know which moments I’m talking about–the imperfect ones.
The stories about your most difficult times as a mother and also the sweetest ones. The times when you screwed up royally (and then laughed hard about it). That’s what I live for–sharing those moments with friends–those moments that make us all feel a little less alone.
Two mornings ago my daughter woke up in, quite literally, a pool of her own vomit. The poor thing was so tired, she didn’t even wake up when it happened.
And in the morning when she casually reported that, “I threw up a little bit but it’s okay!!” I thought for certain she was joking… until I walked into her room. And then saw the fist-sized chunks of vomit in her hair. Three baths and four loads of laundry later, it was clear, she was not joking.
So yeah. It was a long morning.
A long morning that turned into a long afternoon, and then a long night, capped off by a two-hour long nighttime routine. And that was just for two out of the three. All in all, nothing major–just the standard non-stop, strung-together moments of a mom of multiple young kids. You know the drill.
It bears mentioning I’m intensely grateful for all the crazy moments that make up our days, because I know that this is as good as it gets. Young kids who still love being around me, who want nothing more than my time and attention, whose still-small worlds revolve around us and the home we made for them.
But the nonstop pace of early motherhood is a lot. And often, my favorite part of the night is the hour or so after the kids are down and my husband and I can relax, aimlessly scroll through our iPads and watch our favorite TV shows (lately, Hell on Wheels on AMC/Netflix. So good!)
But last night also happened to be the one night a group of fellow mamas had planned a moms’ night out. Nothing special–just a dinner. And I was a potential no-show until literally the last minute because I wanted to make sure The Pukes didn’t return.
So despite the long bedtime routine, the cold weather and my state of perma-exhaustion, I put on some jeans and lipstick and headed out anyway.
And I’m so, so glad I did.
We laughed so much. We got to tell each other stories about our kids and how we met our husbands. Also, we connected the dots between people we knew and who dated who and talked about crazy stories from our pasts.
And it was a great reminder of a few things. First and foremost? You are not alone.
Every mom has been where you are. Isn’t that great? You never need to feel alone, because there is a 99.99% that some woman out there, somewhere, has been exactly where you are.
Even though you may not have gotten the chance to talk about it at school drop-off, or when you ran into her briefly at the coffee shop, or any other time you saw her in passing, when you do sit down and talk with a woman who gets it, you start to realize, Wow, we really do all deal with all the same stuff.
And that’s why I’m so glad I forced myself to go out. I got out of my comfort zone, pushed through a little (a lot) of exhaustion, and went out to connect with some other women who are in the exact stage of life that I am, and it felt good.
I’ve admittedly been a little anxious about meeting other moms…
It’s kind of hard to find the time and energy to connect when you’re so busy with young kids. And if I’m being completely candid, sometimes I’m intimidated by big groups of women, especially ones who seem to already know each other and have established friendships.
But I’m so happy I’ve opened up. I’m so happy to hear other women’s honest–and hilarious–stories about motherhood.
Every night that helps you to remember you’re not alone in the craziness is worth it. Also, every night where you laugh so hard you actually make the people in the table behind you turn around to see what’s going
Every time you open up a little, it pays off. Remember, you’re only one honest story with another woman away from feeling a little less alone.