Women start changing in every way, shape and form the minute we find out we’re having a baby. We commiserate ad nauseam about the bigger sacrifices. But as we trudge deeper into motherhood, there’s a more subtle shift in nuances that let us know we’ve arrived indelibly as Mom and quietly left our old selves behind. No matter how hard we try to look, act, and feel like our pre-kid selves, we’ve ultimately sacrificed those women for good in almost imperceptible ways. Almost.
Our children become a permanent fixture in our mind, body, and soul.
I remember catching myself cradling a roll of Bounty absentmindedly while talking on the phone five minutes after putting my infant in his crib. We’ve probably all caught ourselves rocking an empty grocery cart to soothe a child we left at home. I still do this even though my kids are four and five. We all lament the sleep deprivation of early parenthood. But realistically, we’ve given up the deep, trouble-free sleep we enjoyed before kids for all eternity.
Our minds are never turned off to our kids and their needs, not when they’re older, not even when they’re grown.
Moms can be pretty easy to pick out of a crowd, even without kids in tow. It’s the battle we fight perhaps the hardest, trying not to look like a stereotypical mom. We assume that as our kids outgrow drooling on our shoulders and learn to walk independently, we don’t look so much like hot mess moms. But in reality, we just don’t look like new moms. Alas, once we’ve graduated from a giant diaper bag, our smaller purses are still more akin to Batman’s utility belt, overflowing with our children’s accouterments, and less the statement of fashion we were aiming for. Even the most stylish moms can’t escape the telltale signs of motherhood as evidenced by their colorful kid-made bracelets and artwork keychains. These once chic and trendy ladies can now be seen sporting Elsa sunglasses or carrying a Paw Patrol water bottle because that’s what she could find while hurrying out the door.
We’ve forever sacrificed the level of style characteristic of childless youth.
Our cars are littered with wrappers, crumbs, and toys, the remnants of everything it takes to entertain human offspring while journeying from here to there. We have to move sports equipment, changes of clothes, and strollers to make room for groceries or weekend warrior trips to Home Depot. Once a prideful neat freak, I now boast a semi-acceptable level of squalor in my car and home. Brightly colored toys now decorate every square inch of my once neutrally palleted abode. The kids’ artwork now clutters an entire wall, Scotch-taped hastily with little rhyme or reason. And the garden sanctuary that was once my backyard now looks more like a daycare boot-camp facility. It’s a hard pill to swallow. Even if we can mostly mask our momness on our person, we’ve certainly forfeited this achievement where we live, or at least where our kids live.
All things considered, when I look at the moms I’m lucky enough to surround myself with, I see their subtle sacrifices and feel a deep connection.
I see that the easiest things for all of us to surrender are the pieces of our own comfort and sanity for the sake of our children’s happiness. They’re not only subtle symbols of our unconditional love for our kids, but also encouraging reminders that we’re all very much bonded in a maternal sisterhood still deep in the trenches of childrearing. I admire these women who wear motherhood like a badge of honor. The women who don’t consider any of this a sacrifice at all.
So here’s to the mom consistently wearing T-shirts supporting her kids’ interests and activities. The mom texting the babysitter at the spa or on her rare girls’ night. The mom who let her kid get their school pictures taken wearing their Halloween costume or yesterday’s face paint. The moms who let their kids use the tiny ankle-splitting kiddie carts at the grocery store. The moms jamming to Moana in the drop-off line. The mom smuggling fruit snacks and Hot Wheels in her designer purse. The mom bleaching out the butterfly afterbirth from her kids’ bug tent to make way for the praying mantis egg she’ll hatch in her once immaculate kitchen. The moms driving their mobile dumpsters and living in kid-themed squalor.
