There are things that I do now that younger me wouldn't have considered becoming a common occurrence. I never would have thought that waking up at 7am would be considered sleeping in (sleeping in late, actually) or that pooping in the bathroom with two other people staring at you would be "the usual." Even getting peed on isn't a surprise (high five to having boys). I think of all the ways that my life has changed in order to accommodate my two little minions and it puts having kids in perspective. My life is night and day compared to when I didn't have them.
Being on the other side of the parenting curtain has made me reflect on some of the memories in my childhood where I was a thankless little turd, so I thought I'd acknowledge some of those moments today.
Lunch money and book orders were a pretty common thread in little-me's life. Being an overweight, four-eyed, buck-toothed fifth grader with a crippling shyness meant that both food and books were kind of my thing. I remember being given cash for my lunch when it was needed, and checks for all the books that were purchased to inevitably become my only friends. My mom was dropping me off at school and handed me a check. Knowing how hopelessly forgetful her child was (conveniently I was also very forgetful when it came to chores), my mother cautioned me to put the check in a place I wouldn't forget. After rolling my eyes and tucking it away, I exited the car with the grace of a blind, three-legged gazelle and went on my way. Not five feet from the vehicle I spun around and chased after my mom's car screaming for her to stop; I forgot where I put the check. From that day forward, my mom became the type of mother who would put everything in envelopes and then into a designated spot in my backpack. I would still lose things of course, but at least I held onto it for more than five seconds (by the way---I found the check a few months later...in my book).
In high school I had an unfortunate habit of pressing the snooze button on my alarm. I would wait until the last possible second to roll out of bed and get myself ready. Reasonable Adult Brenna would have known that getting up late meant that getting ready would involve peeing, brushing my teeth, getting dressed, and eating something---all at the same time. High school Brenna was kind of a idiot. I'd roll out of bed and proceed to take a lengthy shower, apply my make up, do my hair, pick out my clothes, and give my mother a generous seven minutes to get me to school on time. Google maps says the route takes 6 minutes---not accounting for traffic, two stop signs, one light, one U turn, and me huffing it to my first class from the drop off area. And boy did I get angry if I didn't make it before the first bell (can I remind you that I was an idiot AND a jerk?). Here's my poor mother who would try to get my lazy butt out of bed, chide me while I got ready knowing I would be rushing out the door yelling for her to get in the car because we were going to be late (Thank the baby Jesus I didn't have girls). As a result, my mom became the type of mother who could hold her own on a racetrack.
Two months after the birth of my son Leo, I found myself wheelchair bound. Something that had started as a numbness in my toes had caught like wildfire up my whole leg in a matter of days. That wasn't the worst of it. I found that by walking a few steps, I would trigger a type of seizure in my spine that brought on a crippling pain from my waist down. What I remember most about those episodes was that the pain was so intense I'd often scramble for a pillow or any object that could help muffle my whaling. I remember hearing my mom cry as she sat by me for every episode, unable to help me. I was in such fear of triggering these episodes that I refused to walk. Benjamin helped me around the house and picked up all the slack of what I couldn't do. My mom was there for both Ben and I at the moments when we found that we could barely be there for ourselves. This couldn't have come at a worse time due to Leo still being in the NICU and my need, as his mother, to visit him every day. Benjamin could only do so much and I often found myself relying on my mom to take care of me. Whether it was to see Leo, my doctors appointments, my MRIs, or any of the other various tests I needed; she was there. She became my care taker, my chauffeur and my shoulder to cry on. She was the one that held my hand as my doctor diagnosed me with MS. As a result of all this, my mom became the type of mother whose heart is big enough to take on the whole world.
Even now, I know that I will never fill my mother's shoes. She wades through poop catastrophes (ew, pinkeye) and cockroach invasions like it's nothing. She is more adventurous and wild than I will ever be and her happiness is infectious (much like pinkeye). The fact that she is my mother means that she has been a part of my life for my whole life; but I often forget that it also means that I haven't been with her through all of her's. The person I have always seen is the mother of two little girls who has molded her life around us. I wonder what my mother was like before motherhood.... I imagine her to be the type of woman who welcomes grilling chicken in the middle of the night if it meant she could spend her day with her babies. Simply because that's the type of woman she is.
I love you mama.
