See this big boy? He's the first gremlin. The starter gremlin. The lead gremlin. The one who taught the other two how to create mental distress in their mother.
I should have never fed him after midnight or let him near water. I'll have to remember that if we ever decide to breed again (which is not very likely, but mother nature likes to play tricks on my mind and convince me that my somewhat more fertile than before self could handle four of these little demons).
I took him to his piano and band practice tonight. Not even thirty seconds into the car ride I heard a sweet little voice say 'Mom, I don't think I've ever asked you this before, but...'
Uhoh. This is it. There's some really tricky question coming up now: What's oral sex, mom?
What's masturbation, mom?
Why did you and daddy make loud noises last night when I was trying to sleep, mom?
Mom, Braedon said that his mom owns anal beads. What are those?
It's amazing how many questions and answers one can run through one's head in a split second. I braced myself...
'What does it feel like to be a mom?'
A parade was held in my stomach as the sea of anxiety calmed down. That's a much easier question to answer.
Or is it?
How do I describe mothering?
What about the uh, not so good stuff? Do I tell him that I sometimes want to cut locks of his hair off while he's sleeping and create a voodoo doll out of them for when he really pisses me off? That screaming into a pillow out of sheer frustration over he and Gutsy's arguments is the only thing I can think of sometimes? That I write entry after entry in my blog about how stressed out I am? That I might as well have pom-poms in my hands as I dash out the door for what precious liittle mommy time I can get, and that having that time is the difference between happy mommy and potentially homocidal, road-rage mommy?
And there's all the good stuff, too. How far do I go with that? Do I tell him that he and his brothers gave more meaning to my life than I could have ever anticipated? That my heart has been Grinchified and has grown three sizes larger since I heard those beautiful cries for the first time? That he, my Intrepid, made me believe that my life was far richer than any of my childless 20-something friends? That I have grown more as a person through motherhood than any other change or accomplishment life has thrown my way?
In the block and a half drive to the Tim Hortons drive-thru I gave it some thought. He waited patiently for my reply.
'Well... Being a mom has been the most challenging and yet the most rewarding thing I've ever done with my life. There's no way to describe my love for you and your brothers. It's a gift you've given me that will never go away. And that's a good thing, given some afternoons, eh?'
'Oh yeah,' replied Intrepid. 'I don't know how you put up with us sometimes.'
He then proceeded to drink his hot chocolate, go to his piano lesson, rehearse with his band for an hour, then promptly and righteously get pissed when told he had to go to bed instead of playing video games.
And then I had carrot cake and watched House.
That about sums up what it's like being a mom, Intrepid: Love, pride, joy, frustration, carrot cake.
I should have never fed him after midnight or let him near water. I'll have to remember that if we ever decide to breed again (which is not very likely, but mother nature likes to play tricks on my mind and convince me that my somewhat more fertile than before self could handle four of these little demons).
I took him to his piano and band practice tonight. Not even thirty seconds into the car ride I heard a sweet little voice say 'Mom, I don't think I've ever asked you this before, but...'
Uhoh. This is it. There's some really tricky question coming up now: What's oral sex, mom?
What's masturbation, mom?
Why did you and daddy make loud noises last night when I was trying to sleep, mom?
Mom, Braedon said that his mom owns anal beads. What are those?
It's amazing how many questions and answers one can run through one's head in a split second. I braced myself...
'What does it feel like to be a mom?'
A parade was held in my stomach as the sea of anxiety calmed down. That's a much easier question to answer.
Or is it?
How do I describe mothering?
What about the uh, not so good stuff? Do I tell him that I sometimes want to cut locks of his hair off while he's sleeping and create a voodoo doll out of them for when he really pisses me off? That screaming into a pillow out of sheer frustration over he and Gutsy's arguments is the only thing I can think of sometimes? That I write entry after entry in my blog about how stressed out I am? That I might as well have pom-poms in my hands as I dash out the door for what precious liittle mommy time I can get, and that having that time is the difference between happy mommy and potentially homocidal, road-rage mommy?
And there's all the good stuff, too. How far do I go with that? Do I tell him that he and his brothers gave more meaning to my life than I could have ever anticipated? That my heart has been Grinchified and has grown three sizes larger since I heard those beautiful cries for the first time? That he, my Intrepid, made me believe that my life was far richer than any of my childless 20-something friends? That I have grown more as a person through motherhood than any other change or accomplishment life has thrown my way?
In the block and a half drive to the Tim Hortons drive-thru I gave it some thought. He waited patiently for my reply.
'Well... Being a mom has been the most challenging and yet the most rewarding thing I've ever done with my life. There's no way to describe my love for you and your brothers. It's a gift you've given me that will never go away. And that's a good thing, given some afternoons, eh?'
'Oh yeah,' replied Intrepid. 'I don't know how you put up with us sometimes.'
He then proceeded to drink his hot chocolate, go to his piano lesson, rehearse with his band for an hour, then promptly and righteously get pissed when told he had to go to bed instead of playing video games.
And then I had carrot cake and watched House.
That about sums up what it's like being a mom, Intrepid: Love, pride, joy, frustration, carrot cake.