• Hopeful Momma •
She wakes up ready to grab the day by the balls. She’s is going to get some laundry done, some food cooked, do yoga, put on makeup, do her hair, and then maybe take some cute pictures because for once she looks normal. She will plan stimulating activities for her child and her child will love them. That child will play for hours while she works on that list of things she so desperately wants to get done. She’s going to give everyone the amount of attention they need today. She’s gonna pet those damn dogs until they are bald; she’s gonna kiss that husband until he has mono; she’s going to set a reminder to call her Mom; she’s always going to make sure those tiny feet that follow her are content. She’s positive, hopeful, and possibly joyous? This is a rare Momma. You don’t usually spot this species out and about. They usually get beat down before they even leave the house.
• Tired Momma •
She wakes up ready for bedtime. Is it 9 o’clock yet? She hasn’t really slept because that means no one really did, which always means today is going to be really, really freaking hard. She has no idea how she will have the energy, don’t even mention patience, to keep everyone happy today. She often wonders why she hasn’t literally died from exhaustion. Is this a cruel joke? Most likely. She gets out of bed carrying crabby, sick, or teething baby with her because he will most likely stay attached to her hip for 97% of the rest of the day. Her arms could rip off both of Mike Tyson’s ears in the flash of a second. No teeth required. She makes whatever is the fastest for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. She does not brush her teeth until noon and her hair won’t get touched all day. Did she change clothes that day? Who knows? Who cares? Not her. It’s on days like these that she questions if she is cut out for motherhood.
• Everyday Momma •
She wakes up tired, but not exhausted. If she’s lucky, she will beat her kid out of bed so that she gets her teeth brushed and her hair up. If she doesn’t, whatever. She does not have crazy high hopes for getting that never ending list done. She’d be happy if she got one or two things checked off. She will follow her child’s lead today. If he wants to play on his own, she will gladly let him and take a look at that list. If he needs her attention for the majority of the day, he will get it. She knows it is not worth the fight. He will be happier and she will be, too. She has learned to play the day by ear and not expect too much of herself because she knows that her ability to get her own list done should not sway her happiness. Her time is no longer hers for the most part. As long as everyone stays alive, fed, and, on occasion, happy, it was a really good day.
• New Momma •
She wakes up fearful, but excited. She has no fucking idea how today will compare to yesterday. No two days have been alike since she had a baby. She still doesn’t know how they let her out of the hospital with this tiny human being to keep alive. She probably hasn’t left the house in close to a month and she definitely doesn’t know if it’s morning or night, Tuesday or Sunday, winter or summer. She doesn’t understand this new weight of love she feels and it makes her incredibly sad one second and incredibly happy the next. She feels like a nut job. She thought she would have gotten out of leggings by now and into those pre-pregnancy pants, but when in survival mode, this desire falls very low on the totem pole. She just hopes that today can go a tiny bit smoother than yesterday and that hopefully this whole motherhood thing will start to feel normal.
• Unicorn Momma •
Dad has taken her son out for a few hours so that she can have a break. Her house is eerily quiet. The dogs are lying at her feet. She feels like she could do a million things. The world is hers for the next couple of hours. What did she use to like to do with her free time? Should she get some cleaning done? Catch up on GIRLS? Shave her legs? Paint her toenails? Bake something? Workout? Take a nap? Pluck her eyebrows? Finish that book sometime this decade? Play with her pups? Mess with her dying plants? Curl her hair? Put on eyeliner? Finish the laundry? Write? THERE ARE A MILLION THINGS I AM ABLE TO DO RIGHT NOW. HOW COULD I EVER CHOOSE? I don’t. I end up looking at pictures of my son the entire time he’s gone; missing him quite terribly. So it goes.