“You know the only people who are always sure about the proper way to raise children? Those who’ve never had any.” (Bill Cosby)
Truer words have yet to be spoken.
I confess, I was a little afraid of myself pre-parenting. I thought I would fight the comparison-game, size up other parents and wonder whose kid was better at eating organic carrots. I envisioned long days sitting outside of pre-school pickup, dodging other moms with fear of judgment and scowling.
But I’ve been shocked (and relieved) to find the very opposite. When I see a mom of three shoving goldfish into her kids’ mouths in the checkout lane, trying desperately to get them to be quiet and leave the store with limbs attached, all I think to myself is, “Solidarity, Momma. Solidarity.” Or when I see a mom going through the Drive-Thru at McDonald’s ordering a 3rd round of chicken nuggets, I just think, “Do work, girl. Do. Work.”
And just when I thought I was heading into the most judgmental season of life, where moms everywhere stared at one another and we all wanted to hide, I found the opposite. Instead I found companionship, support, and love. My inbox flooded with prayers, support, and encouragement. All I really feel is one big metaphorical hug from Mom-land.
I know Mom-wars are out there, but I haven’t fought them. What I’ve found instead is a group ready to support, give pats on the back in the grocery store, offer a shoulder on the strung-out days, and laugh when someone’s kid is having a meltdown in Aisle 8. We’re trying. We’re all trying. And I could care less if you bottle-feed or breastfeed, co-sleep or have-that-baby-in-the-crib-on-night-one, stay-at-home or send your kids to daycare. You know what? We’re all trying. And we’re all different. Let’s hug.
Cheers to you, Mommas. And an extra-special thanks to those of you working hard to make this space one that’s ready to embrace those of us who still aren’t wearing mascara in public. We know we look a mess, and we’re thankful for you.