Why can't we be real?

I came across this written in my writing journal (where I write the things that I can't share with the entire world) and I thought that this might be share worthy, because maybe I'm not the only mom who feels this way.

Why can't we be real?

           

 

            No one truly prepares you for parenting.  Honestly, people can give you all the “words of wisdom” that they can think of but nothing truly prepares you for the role of being a parent, of taking care of another person, of influencing the way another person grows up. 

            Everything is all baby showers and rattles and maternity pictures and “a mother’s love.”  Granted, I skipped all that when I became a Bonus Mom to a 3 year old (at the time).  In our small town, the mothering that you see is all matching outfits, precious pictures, playdates, and gushing over the angelic-ness of  children.  I understand all of these factors.  I validate them because they are part of life.  But no one freaking prepares you for the rest…

            I’m going to start with 7 years old since that’s where I’m at now.  No one prepares you for attitudes and smart-assery.  No one prepares you for being such a huge role in the life of a little person that depends on you so completely.  No one prepares you for “Don’t get out of bed unless you have to potty” and “Excuse me, young lady, what did you say?” and “Do you want to rephrase that?”  No one tells you that you are in essence going to become your mother when you respond with “Because I said so.”  You said you’d never say that… but when they’re asking sixteen million questions and you just can’t handle another one, that’s what you say.

            Why can’t mothers just be real with each other?  I need someone to walk up beside me and say, “Yeah, you know, mine drive me batshit crazy, too.”  I need to see someone who is just making the rules up as they go, who does not have it all together and is just trying to weave it together with not enough patience, constant prayer, a little grace, and heavy amounts of chocolate.  I need to find another mom like that.  Someone who doesn’t beat around the bush, someone who isn’t supermom and doesn’t pretend to be, someone who just gets by with grace and prayer and an insane amount of love for this little person who drives her insanely crazy 98.9% of the time.