Remember Jack Nicholson's speech in A Few Good Men when he rants in defense of the hidden Marine culture at Guantanamo Bay? You want the truth? You can't handle the truth! he famously bellows, before reversing himself and spilling the beans about ordering the Code Red. Loud and proud, that one.
There is a bit of that to motherhood. As in, you’re pretty sure you want to know what's in store . . . but do you really? A tension forms between wanting to hold on to your dreamy vision of what it will be like, versus wanting to arm yourself with as much information as possible. Typically, right at the beginning of your parenting journey, you are traumatically slammed with TMI when preparing to give birth. Get any mom going on her birth story and before you know it you’ll need the smelling salts and a therapy referral.
Not that you thought you would be lounging at the spa in a fluffy dressing gown while the stork dropped a newborn softly into your lap, but still. And of course, there are multiple ways to become a mom - all of them miraculous and terrifying.
So while I hesitate to get too far into the weeds around potentially sensitive topics, I do believe that one of the hardest things about parenting is struggling through some part of it, while fearing you are the only one doing so. We all need to feel like we're just a few good moms navigating the realities of motherhood together. This blog is where I’ll share those stories.
Because for every kid thing that looks like this:
There is a flip-side that looks like this:
One afternoon I was at home working on the computer when I heard the sound of hammer meeting wood . . . a few thousand times. Just when I swirled out of my desk chair to determine what was causing the commotion (and dole out the appropriate punishment), my husband appeared. You can't go down there, he said, blocking the stairs, and then whispered Christmas present. So for the next hour I listened to what sounded like a home demolition and wondered what in the world would be waiting for me under the tree. Assuming it would fit under the tree.
The creation made by my son came with a note that said I was like a flower and there was no one else like me, and that he appreciated me. Like motherhood, it turned out to be a really awesome gift - but I learned to be careful when handling it. Even if it was the sweetest thing in the world, the sharp parts still had the potential to cause serious pain.
Bess Kercher, M.A. shares her wit and mommy wisdom at www.MomsCharlotte... in her blog "A Few Good Moms...Can You Handle the Truth?" Bess lives in Charlotte with her husband and two sons. You can read more of her writing atwww.maemucho.com