The Motherhood Collective | September

It’s been a few months since I’ve had my “ish” together enough to pull off one of these posts…and I’m not going to lie, this one was a toss-up between pulling teeth, wrestling an alligator, and killing my grumpy “tripod”…but, alas.  Here we are!  I thought this month particularly important to document because we have hit a significant milestone in our family.  For one…we have a room with a made bed, fresh paint and caulked baseboards…a feat in itself after the summer we’ve had of moving and home renovations.  Hey!  We even have our own microwave and running water…HUGE!  But more importantly, we reached the all-important 12th week carrying the newest addition to our little family.  That’s right!  I am so, so excited, grateful, and relieved to share that we are expecting another baby to join our family next Spring.  Camryn is being promoted to Big Sister and is warming up to the idea that she’s going to be bossing around a baby BROTHER and that his name will not be Piper.  I am warming up to the idea that the 2nd trimester is around the corner and with it will hopefully come my energy, my appetite, my equilibrium, and my all-around sanity.  I’m hanging onto the promise that not all pregnancies are the same and that boys tend to give you an easier time.  Please don’t comment if you can refute those myths.  I need all the hopeful, albeit empty, promises I can get!

I will say one thing, since we’re talking motherhood and all.  As thrilled as I am to be growing and anticipating another perfect little baby nugget, I have many days where I feel completely unprepared for what is to come, particularly when it comes to caring for an infant and a vibrant, stubborn, independent four-year-old.  I’ve wanted this for two years, but now that my oldest is also two years older – and two years smarter than her own good – sometimes I just feel completely defeated as a mom.  There was a time in my life (the first year) that I felt like being a mom was what I was put on this earth to do.  I was so GOOD at it.  Not in a “I’m better than you and everything I do by the way of parenting is the right way” kind of way, but in the sense that it just came easy to me.  I didn’t care what people thought about how I raised my baby – how I fed her, what time I put her to bed, what germs I exposed her to – I knew I was doing a good…no…a GREAT job and I knew I had a healthy, incredibly happy baby girl and that made me happy.  INSANELY happy.  Like, give me 10 more babies right NOW happy.  I can do this.

And then she wasn’t a baby anymore and I am all like “what the HECK am I doing wrong?!”  I swear…that thought runs through my head every.single.day.  Where did I go wrong and am I going to totally screw up my kid?  Don’t get me wrong…I love my child.  So much that I just got that ache in my heart that (well, it almost made me gag but that’s just circumstantial) you get when you’re about to get really emotional.  I adore her.  Sometimes I still look at her and think, “how did I ever deserve you?”  But more often than not, it seems, I don’t know what I’m doing with her.  It’s a constant power struggle.  Some weeks, the days when I feel most successful are when I manage to get her to preschool, with a semi-balanced lunch, occasionally on-time, and know that she’s in an environment where she thrives, versus stuck home with me, her own mother.  Somewhere along the way, I lost control, despite my constant “oh no you didn’t” and “my child will NOT behave that way” attitude.  Because guys, she DOES.  Oh, does she test me!!!  At meal time, at bedtime, at clean-up-the-mess-for-the-100th-time-time, at stop-playing-in-the-bathroom-sink-time, at did-you-really-just-say-NO-to-me?-time, at YOU-JUST-CUT-WHAT?!!-time, and so many more times in-between.  (<—— Oh, yeah…she cut her own hair last week.)  And I’m told it’s all just a phase.  Sort of like the 1st trimester.  But no one has told me just how much of a failure it can make you feel at times.  How a 3-year-old can wear you down so much by the end of the day that you’re just begging for bedtime.  And kicking yourself that you aren’t one of those moms that started bedtime at 7pm from infancy because 7pm…are you kidding me?  We still have two hours before there’s even a CHANCE she’s asleep.  And yet…after I grit my teeth through the 4th time she gets out of bed to “go potty” and listen to her singing songs, reading books, and playing with Shopkins in the pitch dark until 10:30pm…I finally hear silence and I make my way to her room to pull her covers up, wipe the hair from her face, and kiss her beautiful face all over.  And I curse myself for wishing this phase away.  Because soon, another little beating heart will fill the space in our home and my alone time with her will be sparing.  And our alone time…when I really take the time to sit with her to play with her, read to her, and listen to her chatter, uninterrupted and without distractions…are the best parts of my day and when my cup is most full.  It’s also when I feel equal parts blissfuly happy and soul-crushingly disappointed in myself.  Because I don’t take that time daily, or nearly as often as I should nor as the first-year-mom-in-me thought I would.  It’s times like that (and truthfully, right now) when I realize that my priorities are shifted and I need more structure in my life to allow for those times.  Because my babies knowing that they are loved trumps everything else in my life.  And so, I guess I’m not the worst mom on the planet.  Wheeww.

What else can I say?  I love you baby girl.  So much it hurts.

And I’m sorry I threatened to take all your toys away if you didn’t cooperate for these photos.  We both know ain’t nobody got time for that.

Heather Carraway Photography | Atlanta Lifestyle Photographer

Now be sure to follow the blog circle around!  I love and am so grateful for this incredible group of moms and the support we give each other as self-employed, working mamas.  Next is Bethany of Bethany Mattioli Photography.

 

Share this story