The Highs and Lows of Motherhood…for Real

Being a mom is a bit like being a celebrity.  Only, in your own mind instead of the minds of the masses.

Stay with me…

So, you know how celebrities have highs and lows?  Like, we put them up on pedestals so high up that they look like little tiny ants…or, I guess, rather, we probably look like little tiny ants to them.  And then we wait for them to fall.

Or, sometimes we push them.

Whatever.

So, yeah, being a mom is kind of like that, don’t you think?  I mean, I know personally that I have moments where I feel like a rock star because everything went exactly as planned, and then suddenly….BAM!  Horrible Mothering Moment.  For example…

My parents are in town this weekend and we planned a nice day out and about yesterday.  Before we left I thought of all possible scenarios and packed the diaper bag accordingly: 4 diapers, plenty of wipes, change of clothes for Xavi, food, snacks and beverages for both boys, toys and books for both boys, and pajamas for both boys in case we stayed out until bedtime.  I was on top of my game.  Ohhhh, yeahhhhhh. (pedestal rising)

Also, because I had extra sets of helping hands, I was able to shower (say whaaaa?!?!) AND do my hair (cahrazy)…and even put on a little makeup!   It felt soooooo good.  Heading out on the town with your hair done and not smelling like spit up and poop?  I felt like I was on top of the world. (probably because that pedestal was rising)

We took the boys down town to a playground where they delighted in just about everything.  Xavi LOVED the swings and Carlitos LOVED playing ‘chase me.’  Although it isn’t hard to keep little kids happy at a playground, I am still going to go ahead and give myself a pat on the back for this.  Don’t roll your eyes.  I deserve it.  I didn’t have to stop at that playground, you know.  (pedestal inches up a little)

Then we went to Mario Batali’s Eataly – which is amazing, by the way.  We started by each getting a glass of wine and then strolling around the different areas.  Pasta, Panini, Pizza, Meat, Canned goods, Candies…it is all so beautifully laid out inside.  As we passed through the dry pasta aisles I noticed a group of older teenage girls pass by.  Right afterward, my husband said, “Did you hear what they said about you when you walked by?”

Those little beotches.  Am I really going to have to throw down in front of my children?  I prepared myself to hold back tears when he told me they made fun of my big butt or my muffin top.  I slitted my eyes and dared to ask.

What did they say?

One said, ‘I want to be like her when I’m older.’  Then another asked her what she meant and she said, ‘You know, walking around with my baby, and a glass of wine, and looking all glamorous.’  Then the other ones said, ‘Yeah, me too.’

I’m sorry.  Did you say ‘glamorous?’  Did they seem like they were being sarcastic?

Nope.

Wait.  Tell me again exactly what they said.  Please.

My husband repeated the exchange again.  I did practically have to hold back tears.  Tears of joy!  Every day I feel dumpy, frumpy and lumpy…and exhausted.  To be called glamorous?  And by a group of young, glamorous-looking girls, no less?  It made my day year.

My pedestal shot up.  I felt magnificent.  Glorious.  Proud.  Dammit, I felt glamorous.  ….and then I looked down from where I was perched on that little pedestal.  Hmmm, I forgot I’m scared of heights.  That is a mighty long way down.

We went into the Pizza/Pasta section for dinner and had a nice private dining room, complete with red velvet curtains to protect us from the average folk.  I’m a mom celebrity, remember?  We got the boys settled and started chatting.

Baby, tell me again what they said, please?

Annie. (The Look)  Are you serious?

So serious.

Thankfully, he humored me and ran through the story again.  I tried to get him to tell it to me one more time ‘with voices,’ but The Look turned into The Glare.  Okay, okay.  I’m done asking.  I swear.

The topic turned away from how glamorous I am (much to my chagrin) to some other banal subject.  Then, because I am me and because we were practically in Italy, I started adding to the conversation enthusiastically (read: talking expressively with my hands).  The next thing I knew, I was teetering and started to fall off my pedestal.  I should have known I couldn’t stay up here forever.  Sigh….let the decline begin…

Yes, I managed to knock over my glass of wine by actually getting my hand caught inside of it while ‘talking enthusiastically.’ (Note to self…)

I’ll give you a minute to picture what it looks like for someone to manage to stick their hand inside of a half-full wine glass while speaking and basically throw it at themself, covering everything in wine and shattered glass.

Don’t worry, I almost peed my pants laughing, too.

Before leaving Eataly, we stopped at the Gelato counter for Carlitos.  We all sat at the high tables so he could eat it and I thought I sensed things taking a slight turn for the better.  Carlitos was being an angel and all of the college girls around us were falling in love with him.

When I have kids I want them to be as adorable as he is, or else I am sending them back! {Giggle, giggle.}

Alright, so that was kind of wrong of her to say, but the point here is that Carlitos was winning hearts and taking names.  And basically making his parents look good in the process.  Then my husband secretly bought me a chocolate he knew I wanted.  And I returned the favor with some slyly purchased licorice candies he had been eyeing.

Do I feel my pedestal going back up?

BAM!

No, literally, BAM. Carlitos takes a head dive off of his stool.  I looked over to see two little feet in the air and wide eyes on his gaggle of gals.  Thankfully, he managed to stop himself before his head hit the floor.  But still, this was a sign.  A sign that my plummet from the pedestal of ‘Perfect Mother’ was continuing.

Little did I know that the worst was yet to come.

Let me preface the final part of this story by asking if you happen to know what I am talking about if I say ‘Know it All Old Ladies’?  The ones who tell you that ‘You need to put a hat on that baby! He’s cold!’ while the next one you encounter one block away tells you to ‘Take off his scarf! He is obviously too hot!’  Do you know them?  If you have children I can pretty much guarantee that you do. Well, I met the MOTHER of all Know it All Old Ladies.  I almost could not actually believe it.  But Ashton Kutcher was nowhere in sight.  This was really happening.

So, we get on the subway to head home.  We had managed to get the boys into their pajamas and I was hoping for two pairs of angelically closed little eyes before we hit our front steps.  No such luck.  About 4 stops away from home, Xavi starts crying.  Like, screaming crying.  I did my best to soothe him while he was still strapped into the stroller.  Suddenly, from my left, I hear someone saying something to me.  It’s the older woman sitting next to me.

He is hungry!  Feed him!

He’s not hungry.  He just finished eating more than the rest of us combined. You wouldn’t believe how much he ate.

He is thirsty!

He nursed and drank water.  I don’t think he could fit more liquids inside his body if he tried.

Well then, that is the problem!  He’s crying to get the liquid out!

(Trust me, I did look at her at this point to see if she was for real.  The lady was not kidding.  She was actually suggesting that he was crying tears in order to release some liquids.)

{I had no words to respond to that one.  Obviously.}

He’s too hot, I said aloud, as I took off his hat and my husband unzipped his pajamas a little.

See!  That’s why he’s crying!  He’s hot!

Yes, I think so. (Which would explain why I said so and proceeded to take off his extra clothing, lady.)

Then, I took him out of the stroller to hold him because he still hadn’t stopped crying.

He’s tired!

Yes, I think he is.  He is also teething.  It’s fine.  He will be okay.

See!  He’s teething!  That’s what it is!

(Are you wondering why the heck I was still humoring this woman by responding to each and every one of her outbursts?  Yeah, so am I.  Leave me alone and let me take care of my baby, Butt-In!)

Are his cheeks always that red?

No.

He has a cold!

No.  We have been outside all day….and he is teething.

(We finally arrive at our stop and get up to go, but she still can NOT stop.)

He looks like he has a cold!  Take his temperature when you get home!  I think he is crying because he is siiiiiiiiiiiiick! {Her voice fades as we rush onto the platform}

Poor little Xavi.  He cried the whole walk home from the subway.  As we got to the front door, I held him tighter as I looked for the keys and all of the sudden….

a simultaneous burp/fart.

Well, of course.  He had gas….which he gets when he is swallowing acidic saliva because HE IS TEETHING. (Sorry to take my yelling out on you, but I couldn’t yell at the nosy crazy lady because she was very much my elder)

Immediately, he stops crying.

Needless to say, by the end of the day, I had fallen all the way off of that pedestal and landed firmly on the ground.  On my butt.  Hard.

But this morning I had a little bit of redemption. Because  Mr. Xavi woke up a happy, smiley, giggly little guy….

with a third little bottom tooth to call his own.

Sometimes mama does know best, even if she isn’t a perfect mama.