Inside Gigi's World

Sometimes I actually think I have many.

I can make a meal in 15 minutes out of peanut butter, fish and Brussel sprouts! I never said anyone would eat it, just that I could.

I can help study for a first grade spelling test while feeding a baby on my lap and folding laundry with my free hand.

I have single handedly convinced two small children that no monster would ever hide under their bed because no matter how scary the monster is, nothing could ever be as scary as me.

I can still rap along with enough 90s rap music that the kids don’t want me doing it in front of their friends.

I can have two sets of shoe laces tied, two jackets zipped, two hats and at least one pair of gloves on two separate children in under five minutes and get at least half way to the car before I’ve realized I have forgotten something or someone has to pee.

I can wash laundry and pack a school lunch and watch Dora the Explorer all at the same time and most days I even  remember to switch the laundry over.

But of all of my super powers, of all the things I can do, the best super power of them all, I felt bone and flesh grow inside of my own.

I was told I was never going to have any biological children of my own and even if I did the probability that I would carry a “viable” pregnancy to full term would be very little.

Needless to say, when I found out that I was pregnant with R. I was so excited. But so scared. Any time I felt a cramp or a twinge or an ache I thought I was losing my baby.

Then the weeks started chugging along and those turned into months and then we started hitting milestones together and before I knew it the hands and feet that were at one time sticking out of my belly was now snuggled up tight with me.

The smell of clean hair.

The cubby cheeks.

The baby giggles.

Little fists wrapped tight around mine.

It was blissful. I miss it now, those times. But when you’re going through it, it feels like a slow death brought on by exhaustion.

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It seemed like that would be the hardest part about being a Mom, then you realize, it is not. It is, infact, some of the best times you’ll ever have.

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I’ve never pretended to be the best mother but I have tried to do my best.

I wanted to be there for every bump and fall and every milestone ever reached. And I think I have done pretty good at it.

Motherhood is a different kind of super power all in itself.

It doesn’t matter how ready you think you are, you’ll never ever and I mean NEVER EVER be ready for it.

You’ll never be ready for the exhaustion.

You’ll never be able for the heart aches you can’t make better.

Or the amount of laundry you’ll do.

Or the amount of meals you’ll make and the dishes you’ll wash.

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But even if someone did, even if someone could put it into words, would you listen? Would you want to?

Would it change your mind?

Would you want it to?

Motherhood is different these days. It’s not always sweet smelling heads and cute little fingers.

Now it usually smells like a locker room and looks a lot like Fight Club.

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Motherhood is praying your “Hail Mary” will work but then screaming “Audible ” last second and hoping everything works out okay.

It’s the constant feeling of guilt for not doing enough or too much all at once.

Most times I’m convinced I’m screwing one of them up.

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I never knew how strong I could be until I gained my super powers, until I heard a heart beat for the first time come from within me that wasn’t my own.

I never knew how amazing super powers could be until the first time I was called “Mommy”.

I never knew how super powers could make you move a whole ocean, any mountain, turn the world upside down, just to get to your baby.

I hope someday my children remember me for my Super Powers instead of my short comings.

I hope when they seen fresh flowers in a garden they think of me, I hope tie dye will always put a smile on their faces.

I hope that someday they realize that even when I had no more to give, I pushed and gave more.

I hope they remember us playing in the rain and jumping in puddles.

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To all the moms out there…

To the moms that never got to meet their babies….

To the moms who can’t be with their children today….

To the moms who held little hands and wipe dirty little faces….

To the biological moms and the moms who choose to love someone else’s child like their own….

To the moms that are struggling….

To the moms who seem to have everything together and the ones who are barely getting by and all those in between…

Enjoy your day. Most heros are celebrated more than once a year but we will take what we can get!

Happy Mother’s Day! 🌻🌻

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