Mother's Day

You know you're a mother when.....

You google "eyelash serum" and "steam mop" within minutes of each other.  When you discover they are both the same price, you realize that your dream of fuller, longer lashes is trumped by the need for your newly crawling baby to have a sanitized floor to drag her belly around on.

You have a conversation with your spouse that starts like this, "Do you think we've ruined him?"

You have another conversation with your spouse that goes a little like this, "Do you think we'll survive them?"

You feel guilty about a million and one things and then feel guilty for feeling guilty.

You cringe (and wish you could pull out your soapbox) every time you have to say "No" when asked "Do you work?"

During your relaxing Mother's Day shower you look over and discover you are bathing with 2 giraffes, one green dinosaur and a Night Fury dragon with optional flapping wings.

On your relaxing Mother's Day you....write a child's Primary talk, go to 3 hours of church, change a child's sheets who had an accident, make pancakes for dinner, fold laundry and give a laundry folding lesson at the same time, run to the store for milk and juice because you forgot them when you went to the store yesterday (ironically so you wouldn't have to go on Sunday), yell a few times at a few children, and then feel guilty about it AND the going to the store part (see above), dispense medicines, vacuum, give yourself a pedicure, and refuse to share your strawberry Hagan Daas.

The pain of a botched c-section and subsequent recoveries pale in comparison to the pain you feel when your child has a heartache, or worse, you've caused the heartache while trying to navigate your way through this parenting obstacle course.

You don't care one bit about the scar snaking up your abdomen because it means you have a happy and healthy baby.

You can't remember the last time you had 8 hours of sleep.

You drive a mini-van but pretend you are back in your convertible Mustang GT by opening the sun roof (which you promptly have to close because a shortling in a car seat complains about the sun in his eyes).

Some days you feel like Mother of the Year and other days you grasp desperately for the Easy button or wish you had a do-over.


And you know you've fully arrived to the motherhood party when someone asks you, "Are all those your's?"