The Truth About Mothering

I enjoy, and appreciate other moms, getting sentimental and talking about all the things that we love about being a mom. There are countless blessings both big and small that accompany this glorious season called "mothering". However, there are also some "other" things that come with the title....some unpleasantries, if you will, that we dare not reveal to the rookie mom-to-be for fear that she will not embark upon this truly blessed endeavor.

Those "unmentionables", however, are often the surprises that are most shocking...and traumatizing. I feel that these motherhood secrets are indeed the notables that we should bring to light, share with the rookie, scare off the unknowing and naive, and file our own grievances against. No. Mothering is not all snuggles, grins, and rosy cheeks. It is accompanied with shock, horror, and a wake of destruction.

The atrocities to my yana benieni alone are worthy of scaring off a rookie. Who knew what torture my "special area" would endure...and the vast array of spectators and strangers who are invited to partake during my moment -and those leading up to-have left it feeling more like a super highway. To add insult to injury, my "special area" wasn't the only body part that suffered mass destruction...spreading, widening and dimpling (not the sweet ones on your new super delightful babe) occurs, my breasts will never, ever be the same, and tummy skin can only "bounce" back so many times before it is left broken, as my boys like to point out. No matter how much I torture myself on the treadmill and in workouts, I will never get to enjoy my pre-baby physique again. And to my own chagrin, I never appreciated what I had until it was lost to me....becoming an urban legend.

To the horror of many mommies, we have been cursed with increased hair growth brought on by that sweet "bun in the oven". No, not longer, shinier, more glorious hair on my head. No such luck. On the contrary, it shows up and rears its ugly head everywhere -and anywhere- else that it is unwanted, and requires continual removal so as not to look like the crotchety old lunch lady who's sportin' the mustache! And will the bags under my eyes ever cease to give way my exhaustion?! Probably not. It is, after all, part of the curse that our mothers cast upon us when we rolled our eyes and snapped our teenage mouths one too many times in her direction.

Motherhood brings with it innumerable blessings, but behind those very blessings sit hemorrhoids, constipation, occasional incontinence, and a lack of sleep that even the Geneva Convention would deem cruel and unusual punishment. All of this is nothing when compared to the countless diapers that will be changed, butts that will be wiped, bodily fluids that will be deposited upon us, and the morals, ethics, and beliefs that we are required to bestow upon our offspring.

Nobody mentions these particular details; items of which I'm sure reside in the fine print. All moms experience and tolerate them. However, there are some days when I question my own sanity since I chose this path. And as many days as I sit and count my blessings there are as many moments that I have wanted to put them back where they came out of in order to enjoy toilet time alone, listen to my own thoughts and voices bouncing around in my head, or to experience a night of uninterrupted sleep. Alas, the possibility of that endeavor seems unavailing....so I will invest in a push-up bra, spanx, and "specialty" cream for my nether regions.