If you're wondering what I did last Saturday night (blogging in real time here) juuuuust let me tell you-
I had a blast.
I attended an awards ceremony/celebration/recognition/party with incredible women that I admire and actively seek to emulate. When I don't know what I'm doing as a mom, I just copy them. The two women who organized the dinner wanted to acknowledge the big and small accomplishments we achieve everyday as mothers. Especially since the world outside our family unit rarely does.
To be honest, I was mostly in it for the food and good conversation.
I had a blast.
I attended an awards ceremony/celebration/recognition/party with incredible women that I admire and actively seek to emulate. When I don't know what I'm doing as a mom, I just copy them. The two women who organized the dinner wanted to acknowledge the big and small accomplishments we achieve everyday as mothers. Especially since the world outside our family unit rarely does.
To be honest, I was mostly in it for the food and good conversation.
Unnnnntil I actually got there and realized that this wasn't just a fun dinner party - it was something much more meaningful. In our society, it isn't really acceptable to brag about our accomplishments. Especially as mothers. We are kind of expected to be the silent sufferers (not that it's all suffering - pajamas and baby cuddles feel pretty luxurious most days). So, when we were requested to send in a short paragraph about the accomplishment we were most proud of as mothers - I put it off. The email stayed in my draft box until the morning of the event when I finally just rambled off something and pushed send.
That evening, I got dolled up. Got thrown up on. Got dolled up again. Put the baby to bed and drove to the restaurant.
As I sat down, I looked around to see who else had made it and it occurred to me that I was the youngest mother there. Everyone else was at least working on baby #2. I'm mentioning this because I'm about to break that "no bragging" rule - I may have been the youngest mother there, and certainly the least experienced, but I feel so confident in myself as a mother. I'm proud of how easily I've transitioned from just me, to us. I really love being a mom. It's a peaceful place for me - even when I have absolutely no idea what I'm doing - I've found peace there.
This is my element.
And I can honestly say that I have not wished away a single moment of my childs life. Even the three day period when he would only nap if I was standing up and holding him, or when we had thrush and every meal was brutally painful, or any number of times that were hard and my arms were sore and my eyes were burning from being awake around the clock. I haven't loved every moment, but I haven't wished them away either. I couldn't wish them away. Not his soft skin, not his sweet baby smell, not his utter dependence on me.
But it hasn't consumed me either.
After we ate, one of the women shared all of our proudest accomplishments. She read or summarized what we had said and then gave us each a title. This was mine -
"It's so hard to think of an accomplishment because every little thing seems so trivial - it's really when you put it all together that the feat of motherhood proves its difficulty! But I've realized that what I'm most proud of, since becoming a mother, is maintaining my connection with who I am as a person. Naturally, I've had to let some interests, hobbies, and showers slide - but I've been able to continue developing myself as a person in a way that enhances my mothering, rather than detracting from it. And I've really come to believe that the decisions that factor in my well-being are also the decisions that are best for my family!"
After she read it, she said that the title she had chosen for me was "The Natural." And the women who I admire, love, and emulate - they murmured their approval. I heard one woman say, "That is perfect for her!" and saw others nod their heads and smile and I felt something very important - something that I have only ever felt in the temple before -
I felt honored.
I felt honored.