My Crazy Mom

I’m up around 4 this morning and can’t sleep. Maybe it’s because a little baby resides in my tummy and likes to move around at anytime he chooses.  I used to think my mom and many other moms were a bit crazy. And I always wondered why my mom was always sleeping on the couch.  Didn’t she want to spend time with me?  If I only I knew back then what I know now.  Today’s in the middle-of-the night post goes to my mom. Because only now am I starting to see.


I used to think that being a mom was hard because it required you to discipline your kids and teach them what’s right. Oh heavens… is it.  But I didn’t realize until having my own little ones that motherhood is packed with so much more.  The words, “being a mom is hard” is something I knew in concept, but had little understanding for. Facebook pictures makes it look so rewarding and tempting (check out this funny post from a college friend of mine).   For me, I post happy Facebook photos much for my own pleasure.  Mainly, so that when I browse my own profile page, I can remind myself not to give up.  For each sweet moment of the day, there are ALWAYS just as many crazy exhausted and frustrating moments. For me at least.  (Side note – I’ve been contemplating whether I should hire a photographer to  capture the messy and crazy and not putogether moments, which are many.  If I framed them around the house, they might help me laugh a little more.)

Whether you’re shooting to be a supermom or just trying to be a responsible mom, motherhood is like bootcamp (that lasts for years and years). What makes it hard is that often the hardest times are not recognized and perhaps may never be.  Waking up to feed your infants may be the easier side of things. After all, its expected.  But then when your child starts to get a mind of her own and decides to call only for “Mommy” in the middle of the night and really your poor husband just won’t suffice, the motherhood battle is only beginning.  Each mother has separate battles. Each hard and different.  For me, there are so many moments where I know my son won’t remember.  Which means he won’t appreciate them. Ever.  Yes, there are the dramatic times that I could remind him about later on. Like when he threw up me. Or when rubs his boogers on my shirts daily. Or throws food on the floor that I sacrificed my own sleep to prepare. Yes, I could remind him later on, but it would take too much of my energy to make him remember.  And frankly energy/sleep are rare commodities for moms!

Which brings to me remember that when I was little I had quite a pattern of going to my parents room to sleep with them every night (isn’t that sweet?) I must have been 3, 4 or 5… which means that while I woke my mom up at night as an infant, she probably didn’t get a full night of rest even 5 years after birthing me.  And that’s when it struck me. Is anyone normal when you don’t get good sleep?

Wake up early the next morning without a good full night of rest.  It would be nice if you could just take a nap later on in the day and take it easier that day.  But when the sun rises, whether you’ve slept well or not, the day has just begun.

Oh, my poor mom.  I used to throw tantrums quite a bit. Enough that I remember crying (or forcing my cry) especially when we had to leave the house. My signature move is that I hated socks.  And the only way my mom could solve my issue was to get rid of that seam, that wicked line on my sock.  A simple logical solution might be not to wear socks, or to explain that the seam is necessary to construct a sock.  But trust me, motherhood is never that easy.  You have to be creative and patient (which can be difficult to muster oftentimes).  You can imagine how much “fun” I must have given my mom ever morning when we had to leave the house.

Ironically, I can relate because as life would have it, my daughter seems to have similar preferences.  She doesn’t like itchy, puffy, uncomfortable things. And oh, the socks, she does not like to wear socks.  So whenever my blood begins to boil in the AM because I lack sleep yet also don’t have a few more minutes to get my daughter out of the house, I remember my mom and maybe only 5 out of the 1000 times I did the same to her.  Who cares that I wore my favorite earrings or outfit that day.  My blood boils every time it happens.  And then I think of my poor mother.

So as I round up this early morning post, hats off to all mom’s and especially my mom.  For the unappreciated moments that very likely brought you to rightful craziness, thank you for  exhausting yourself to couch mode every day.  For me. I love you Mom.=)