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Finding Yourself, Despite Yourself

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Finding Yourself, Despite Yourself: My Mom Logic

Finding yourself despite yourself

"Ef it" has become my mothering war cry, my mom logic. Four kids and ankle-deep into this thing called motherhood, "ef it" has become a sanity saver. I guess you could say "don't sweat the small stuff," but "ef it" has more panache.

With Mira, my hopes of perfecting motherhood were quickly dashed. She was colicky and I plunged into a deep but secret depression. I picked my arms bloody but plastered a smile on my face for friends, doctors, and family -- motherhood is HAPPY, it's AWESOME (holy crap was I ever miserable).

The arrival of Tessa brought on a severe case of delusional mothering. I was determined to make up for my shortcomings with Mira and spent hours scrubbing, scouring, singing, and fretting over projecting the perfect image of June Cleaver if she knew who Dr. Spock and Dr. Sears were. So deep was this delusional state that I threw a birthday party for my husband, complete with drunken single friends and homemade foods when Tessa was but a wee 3 weeks old.

Are you depressed yet? I certainly was. Right about here is where I lost my mind.

There is a period of time I don't remember well. There are pictures, ones of us Play-Dohing and playing -- things certainly looked happy enough....

Inside my head was a different story.

I hated being myself, I hated being a mom, I hated feeling like I was failing at both being a mom and being myself.

And then Tessa wrote on my walls ... and my library books ... and dumped all my files, leaving me with 2 choices:

1. Going postal, which I guess would actually be more like going Mom-postal or Mostal, if you will

2. Learn to laugh

Luckily, I picked laughing. These days I'm a messier mom. My laundry isn't done, my floors don't shine, sometimes I yell, and it's not unusual to find a half liquefied bell pepper in my fridge, but I also laugh A LOT.

And that is where my mom logic comes into play. Whenever I feel like crying, whenever I feel like everyone deserves punishment, whenever I find myself staring at the charred/wet/goo-covered remains of some precious project/momento/thing i just really really loved to own, I say "EF IT!" Those magic words give me permission to be angry/sad/drunk later and deal with the moment in a sane rational way -- usually by laughing (or making out with a good piece of cake, because you can't say horrible things when your mouth is full of tasty tasty cake, MMM cake).


next: Momedy: My Momlogic
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