The Un-Dignity and Dignity of Motherhood

My shirt is almost always dirty. From various baby bodily fluids and leaking breastmilk, to ketchup kisses on my shoulder left lovingly from hugging toddlers.

I haven't been in the bathroom by myself in years. Instead, I go with an entourage of little helpers handing me towels and toilet paper. ("Mommy, can I help you wipe?")

My post-pregnant body is scarred with the battle wounds of pregnancy and breastfeeding... stretch marks, loose skin, c-section scars, and ummm.... fat.

Smelling good simply means not smelling like spit-up.

I can have hour long conversations about the bowel habits of my children.

I listen to theme songs from the Disney Channel for twenty minutes before realizing I don't actually have to listen to my kid's music when they aren't in the car.

My wardrobe consists of tennis shoes and flip flops, blue jeans and t shirts. I don't own a business suit or a pair of nice dress slacks.

I let my three year old give me a manicure, and then leave it for weeks.

I am responsible for all... lost shoes ("Mom, why can't I find my shoes?!!"), stubbed knees ("Mom, why didn't you keep me from falling?!"), and meals that aren't good ("Why did you cook this? I don't really like it.") When things go wrong, it is all my fault.



My three year old tells me I look pretty, all the time. Even when I know I don't.

I never feel lonely, or unloved. I hear "I love you, Mommy" daily.

My post pregnant body is life and sustenance for another. Hugely powerful.

Sometimes I smell like homemade bread or fresh baked cookies, clean laundry, or fresh garden vegetables. That smells good.

I can have hour long conversations about the wonderful things my children do every day... how much they are learning and growing. I am their teacher.

I love good music and good books and take time to enjoy them regularly. My kids know I love good books and good music. They will love them too.

My wardrobe is perfect for playing with my kids. I'll never look back and wish I had more time to play with my kids.

I know that a good manicure isn't actually all that important.

I am responsible for all... tests that are aced ("Thank you for helping me study, Mom"), races that are run ("Mom did you see how fast I ran? I ran it for you!") and meals that are good ("Mommy, you make the best dinners ever!"). When everything goes right, I get credit for that too. Completely rewarding.

Ah, Motherhood. I am undignified. I am the definition of dignity.