More than Just a Mom

The dance of Motherhood is a very misunderstood one. It is a blend of every style and every technique, yet the lines so often get blurred. You are judged for every misstep by people who are biased and lofty in their own ideals of what motherhood is and even if you say you don’t take the criticism to heart, your next step is taken more cautiously than the first. It is forever a balancing act. It flexes muscles you are not used to and some you never knew you possessed. It is exhilarating yet leaves you exhausted. You see others dance this dance from afar looking glamorous and you think they make it look effortless. It is fulfilling yet leaves you empty. The great oxymoron. You can dance this intrinsically beautiful yet ever challenging dance to the best of your ability and still hear the words, “oh, she’s just a mom.”

You suddenly wake up, in clothes you haven’t washed in days, dirty hair that is partially up, some form of unidentifiable substance on your sweatpants, a baby on your hip and a toddler on your leg. You are carrying a bottle in one hand and the handle of one of their pacifiers gritted between a sore and aching jaw that is riddled by anxiety. You catch a glimpse of yourself in a mirror that you haven’t looked into in days and you don’t recognize the person staring back at you. It was in this moment I said to myself, “this is what I wanted? Is this the life I begged God for?”

I always wanted to be a mom. After all I had a pretty incredible example growing up. My mom was the mom that everyone was jealous of. We always had people at our house and it was always warm and smelled like freshly baked cookies. We still joke that when Mama Laurie cooks anything, it’s for a small army. 😂 If I couldn’t find one of my friends in the house, I would normally find them curled up on the couch with my mom pouring their heart out and receiving the famous ‘Mama Laurie’ advice that no one knew they needed but always ended up fixing their hearts. I knew I wanted to be just like her. I also came from a long line of strong, beautiful and capable mothers. My Dads mom raised 5 boys and 1 girl, to this day I am in awe of her strength and her heart. My moms mom worked and raised my mama while being a pastors wife and then losing her husband way too early and still managed to be an instrumental role in my life. So you see, I had some big shoes to fill, but I knew that their strength was somewhere inside me!

After dealing with lots of medical things (a story for another day) I was told it would be incredibly difficult to have children. So I decided to find a career that I loved! I moved home after college to help take care of my mom while she was really sick and I began working. I was given a studio in an after school music program to teach voice lessons to elementary through high school kids! I had always thought that I would have been performing or traveling and leading worship but I fell in love with teaching so I thought I could put that part of my dream on hold for a while.

When I found out I was pregnant I legitimately laughed out loud. (side bar- I love how now-a-days we have to specifically say that the laughing out loud was legitimate because of how many times we use lol when we aren’t actually laughing out loud 😂) I was shocked and so excited!! I was so incredibly grateful for this miracle and decided I wanted to stay home with my babies. I was so grateful that I could.

Becoming a mom was jolting. Everything in me wanted to lie to people and pretend that the transition from working to being a stay-at-home-mama was amazing, however it was a bit different and all consuming. (you can read about the first couple months of motherhood here!) I so desperately missed my slow mornings getting ready for work and showering in peace. I missed arriving to my studio early enough to run to the cafe across the street for an iced coffee. I missed the empowering clicking sound my heels made on the sidewalk as I strolled back to the music center with my iced coffee in hand. I missed my drive and the feeling of cute clean clothes. I missed the feeling of being put together and noticing how cute I felt. I must have thrown my self-confidence in the same closet as the high heels that I used to resent for making my feet hurt. How I longed for those blisters!! Suddenly the idea of a canceled lesson was no longer annoying but the thought of practicing piano and singing by myself was all I wanted to do. I missed the phone calls to my husband on my way home from work as we casually discussed our dinner options before landing on Chipotle, Speedway slushies and our favorite TV show at the time. I missed those quite car rides with the windows down listing to my kind of music.

I just missed me.

I felt lost. I felt unseen. I felt purposeless.

The weird thing about motherhood is that you spend all day serving little tiny humans that do not have the ability to give you a standing ovation much less recognize the sacrifice we are making by wiping their cute tiny butts. Yes, they are so cute, but boy do they stank sometimes. I realized I spent most of my day searching for the subtle roar of applause from an audience that I no longer had. I was also missing that feeling of making a difference in a students life by helping her reach that high C that we had been working on for months. Not to mention the fact that this previously lovey and super touchy girl actually didn’t want to be touched by anyone at the end of the day because of the jungle gym she had just been for her kids. I was continually searching for applause and approval while striving to be perfect.

I wanted to be good at my new job, no, I wanted to be perfect at this new job. I wanted so badly to be a perfect mom and I felt guilty when I was unexplainably miserable at times. I love those two girls more than I can express, but I lost my identity in trying to please them. I would feel like a failure when they cried, or didn’t sleep. I hated watching all these other moms post about their perfect little sleepers when I was up with my kids every other night at 3 am. I watched other moms have perfectly decorated houses that were clean and organized and I felt the sting of jealousy and failure. When I couldn’t hear the applause I was used to anymore I did what I always do, I tried to practice and perform better. There had to be something I was getting wrong. So, I’ll create another schedule, I’ll make sure that the kids are sleep trained and only eating green veggies. I’ll spend nap time cleaning and organizing while I silently critiquing myself for always getting things wrong. No wonder I am exhausted by the end of the day. I was burned out. I wanted so badly to enjoy being a mom.

Enough was enough.

I had to find out why I was so unhappy. Part of it is definitely fluctuating hormones and Postpartum Anxiety, but something needed to change. I decided I needed to find some things that made me happy again, and made me feel like me again. I started to lead worship at my church, I started music directing at local schools and then I started blogging. Little pieces of who I was and who I wanted to be started to slowly make their way back to me. I started waking up early to take care of my heart with devotions and time with Jesus as well as taking care of my body by working out. I started asking for help and asked for breaks so that I could be by myself for even 20 min. Once you start to put yourself first, you become a better you. You become a better mom when you’re a better you.

I realized that I had lost my identity and with it my purpose. I had no idea what my hobbies were. I had no idea who I was. I had lost my “audience” and with it my self confidence. What I didn’t know was that the audience I gained was the most important audience of all. After all, they watch me more than anyone ever has.

My two-year old has entered what I like to call parrot mode. She is repeating everything I say. It’s actually very convicting and makes you check your heart to make sure what is coming our of your mouth is something you would be ok with you daughter repeating.

She is watching. Both of my girls are watching.

They watch me silently judge my ever changing body. They watch me get angry when I have to clean up the dishes for the 5th time. They watch me snap at my husband for not doing something the way I wanted it done. They watch me get anxious and they watch me fall. They watch me.

This audience is the most important and the most impressionable.

I am more than just a mom.

I wear so many hats throughout the day. In the morning I am their alarm clock, I wake them up and get them ready for the day. I am their personal chef, I make them breakfast. I am their maid, I clean up after the breakfast that I have made for them. After breakfast I am their teacher, I teach them about letters and numbers and I teach Shaylee how to walk. I then become their counselor as I break up a fight over the book they both wanted, I reason and speak to both of their hearts and try to calm them down. I am their pastor as I pray with them and over them and teach them how to pray. I am a nurse when Ellie jumps off the couch and bangs her knee, I after all have the best stash of Frozen band aids!! I am their comfort as I wrap Ellie up with a hug and dry her tears. I hear the hands of the clock keep moving and now I am a cook again. Then a maid, then an assistant on a big project, then a creative director when the imagination has stopped. I then become a manager delegating the clean up! The worst part is the parenting when I need to discipline, remembering to quiet my anger and discipline with love. I keep the monsters away and I am the boo boo kisser. I hold the magic of story telling and the music for dancing.

I am the keeper and sustainer of life in my house and I stand guard over their innocence and their imagination. I am raising future leaders and world changers and warriors. I pray over my household and keep the darkness away from my door and I never leave my post. The importance of my role is not lost on my heart.

I am more than just a mom.

I want them to see that when mama falls, mama gets back up and tries again. I want them to see that when I lose my temper, I apologize. I want this audience to see that when I get anxious, I worship and I pray. I want them to see how I take care of myself. I want them to see their mama love her body. I also want them to see a mom who goes after her dreams. I want them to witness a mom who knows who she in in Christ and see the confidence inside. I want them to see and I want them to learn.

Then I want them to stop watching and join me. I want them to fail and get back up. I want Ellie to sing unashamed and dance like a fool around the living room coffee table. I want Shaylee to growl and giggle and love every part of her goofy self. I want them to know how, because they watched their mama.

Sunday is Mother’s Day. A day devoted to giving mothers the audience and applause they deserve.

When Mother’s Day is over, I don’t want to chase after the applause. I want to rest in knowing the glorious calling that we as mamas have been called too.

The calling is not glamorous but the reward is magical.

This is just a season of your life. Don’t miss it mama.

Rock your babies to sleep, cuddle them and hold them way too tight. Stay up a little longer watching one more episode of ‘Fancy Nancy’ because your little girl asked so nicely. Make your house messy by making pillow forts! Bake cookies and get flour all over the floor! Have a dance party and make sure to breathe in the magic and the mayhem that is Motherhood.

You are allowed to feel every emotion that this job brings you. You are allowed to feel the pain of the new muscles forming and the change that is coming. Just don’t wish for this season to be over before you recognize the audience you’ve been given.

They watch.

Remember, you are more than just a mom. After all, you’re in the hood, the Mama(hood). You’re a bada$$

You are their world and that my friends is worth more than applause.

XOXO, KB