Recycled.

I was feeling much of this post today... and since it was written back when my blog had five, or maybe just two readers, I'm recycling. Hope you enjoy.

The Undignity 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.


(Okay, so a few things have changed since this was written. The three year olds mentioned will be five next month. AND, I'm no longer breastfeeding, since teeth baring toddlers frighten me. Leaking breastmilk is no longer a part of my daily aroma... but I do still get ketchup kisses... and my most favorite, the smears of chocolate and other unknown substances on the back of my pants, perfectly level with the mouths of my children. Great. Really. I love that.)