Mama said there'd be days like this

When you become a mom, parts of you change for the better and parts of you change for the worse.

I have become more laid back with Preston. At first, when he was a newborn, I was a nervous wreck over everything. As Preston has grown, I don't worry as much as I used to and tend to not sweat the small stuff as much. I remembered crying when Preston was around 3 months old because I spilled an ounce of breastmilk accidentally, and breastfeeding was so hard for me that every ounce mattered. I just wanted to do everything right. I am long past those days and feel much more at peace over my role as a mom. Like I always say, perspective is a beautiful thing! It's much easier to say that now, compared to how I felt this time last year. 

On the flip side, I have become increasingly hard on myself. I REALLY want to be supermom. I want to work full-time, have a home cooked meal on the table every night at 5:30, play for hours with Preston, have a designer home, and for Brian and I to always enjoy each other.

A moment of enjoyment from the weekend with friends.

It's impossible to always be perfect, I know. But several times over the course of the last year, I have made mistakes and it's bothered me much more than it should have. I am working really hard on laughing at these moments, rather than having a freak out/adult tantrum.

Let's take Thursday night for example. I was having a major allergy attack, and for the past few months, Brian has been working later than he ever did before. I try to plan meals the best I can, and had prepared an awesome crock pot dinner that morning before work so we would all have food when we got home. Preston and I got in the door around 5:30, and I went to check on the food in the crock pot. It was exactly as I left it, completely uncooked. I had turned it on, but didn't plug the stupid thing in the outlet. I completely lost it. Brian walked in the door after a hard day, and I just unloaded on him and cried and flipped out about how I do everything wrong (drama mama moment). All the while, Preston ate a Gerber Graduates baby dinner I so desperately tried to keep from feeding him.

Clearly, Preston was enjoying his treat. :)

Thank goodness for that perfect smile.

I immediately called my mom (which I tend to do nightly) for some of her more experienced, wiser perspective. Growing up, I remember thinking she was supermom. In fact, I talked with the rest of my family recently about this and they were all in agreement. :) Not only were the three of us in matching smocked outfits that she sewed for us all the time, but we had home cooked meals nearly every night. I am pretty sure by the time I turned 16, I could count on two hands the amount of times my family had eaten out at a restaurant. Not to mention she taught school full-time and piano lessons on and off through the years. I sometimes think of my childhood as idealistic. No major issues, everything was wonderful and great, and my mom and dad were perfect, and my brothers and I had a lot of fun together. Even though that is what I saw and how I remember it, that doesn't mean that is how it WAS. Now that I am a mom, I know that a perfection in parenting doesn't exist. But I am so thankful I have her to talk me off the ledge, when I am about to have a panic attack over an uncooked crock pot dinner!!! :)

She tells me stories about how she had all three of us in the grocery store when one of us accidentally tripped her, and she fell and hurt herself badly in the story. Or times when she ruined dinners, or was sick and still had the three of us to take care of, or lost her temper, or couldn't "sleep train" us because she couldn't stand to hear us cry so I didn't sleep through the night until I was almost two. My favorite is the time she was extremely pregnant with my youngest brother, and had a 3 year old and a 16-month-old. Somehow, our dog got out and my mom tried to chase him down the street and because she was so pregnant, lost her balance, fell and broke her arm. She delivered my brother Joe a few weeks later with a sling on her arm.

The important lesson is that, I don't really remember any of that and those aren't the moments I think back to. I want the same for Preston. For the majority of his memories to be good ones. I don't want him to look back on a mom that freaked out all the time, over small things. I remember growing up, my mom used to tell us all the time to pray for patience. I find myself doing that throughout the day. Praying for patience. Slowly but surely, my prayers might be answered, probably around the time Preston turns 16 and then I'll lose it over driving. :)