My Scrambled Brain with a Side of I Already Forgot

I’ve recently come to terms with the fact that I no longer have a cohesive mind. I realize my kids need to wash their hands after they are already eating a fistful of strawberries and spent the morning digging for slugs. I can in one moment be thinking how reasonably King Triton dealt with his mischievous mermaid daughter and suddenly I remember we are out of peanut butter. I will be walking to the refrigerator to grab a sparkling water and then be completely side tracked by the dog or the doorbell and by the time I get back to the fridge, Maddie has nabbed my water and I accidentally call her Alexa—to which Alexa responds, “What would you like to order.” My former UCD-educated-mind, preferably one that remembers all my kids when I’m leaving the supermarket.

So now it seems only fitting I share with you some random occurrence that follow no particular theme or pattern because even if I wanted to follow a logical train of thought, I wouldn’t be able to find my keys to get there.

• Having a third baby makes you worry less about the common milestones like walking or talking and worry more about what age they will start picking their nose and eating it in public.

• Yesterday, I used my hair dryer that I haven’t used on myself in 6 months, to dry off Barbie’s outfit as suggested and requested by my 5-year-old.

• When my baby doesn’t poop for more than 3 days, I will dress her in an outgrown outfit I’m prepared to throw away.

• As I loaded up my herd into our minivan and used my bare hands to wipe someone’s snot, I thought about how my current situation is the exact opposite of whatever it is people do at Coachella.

• While some Mom’s may have been busy the night before Easter filling their kid’s baskets and hiding eggs; I was stuffing Ariel costumes and princess dresses into upper cabinets, so the only outfits my daughters could find to wear were pre-screened and approved for Easter brunch.

As moms we are busy—constantly thinking for or about our tiny humans: I wonder why they act tired but won’t go to sleep and for the love of Velcro and slip-on, “Please go put on your shoes.” We don’t have the luxury of only thinking about ourselves, which leaves us with a brain and life that often resembles an egg; scrambled, over hard, but never over easy.

I See You

Part of the reason I had the confidence to have a third baby was because I have witnessed other moms I admire do so with grace, hustle, and joy. Other moms make it all look possible and I need that visual reminder because there is a sisterhood within motherhood. I can always relate, even when we don’t parent the same—the love we feel for our kids is the same.  

I have never understood mom-shaming as a phenomenon. To me, I am equally as inspired by those moms doing the one-armed-toddler-drag through Costco as I am when I see a Zen-Mama on the playground announcing that one more minute really did mean one more minute; because I’ve done both. I’ve been both. Whether you had a natural child birth or your toddler just took their first poop in the potty, in my book, moms everywhere deserve a daily parade.  

Sometimes we feel unseen; like we are being buried behind the scenes packing lunch boxes that come back full of crusts and carrots or suddenly postpartum it is all about the baby and you feel selfish for thinking, “But I’m here too.” Other times we would prefer not to be so exposed, like when both kids announce at dinner with my in-laws, “this is disgusting” since we taught them basic table manners, but forgot about their lack of filter. I guess I should be grateful they didn’t mention the word “vagina” at the dinner table, since that’s been the topic of conversation in our household lately. Small victories, I suppose.

I will show you my missteps if you show me yours and then we can truly witness each other for what we are; imperfect. While I alone am the mother to my children, when you see me and I see you, it makes me feel like we are in this together.

Photo Credit: Fit4Mom Davis

The New Normal

And just like that, I have 3 daughters. It’s taken a minute, but we are all starting to adjust to our new normal as a family of 5. My older two, which I now affectionately call “the big girls” have taken to their baby like a dream and our only problems arise when they want to put their little faces 2 cm from hers —but unfortunately this puts Josephine directly in the snot-splash-zone during kissing and sneezes.

I was completely prepared for an onslaught of jealousy and behavior regressions, but what I wasn’t prepared for was the big girls giddy with anticipation at every diaper change as to whether Josephine had gone #1 or #2 and how perfectly ordinary they consider it for their baby to spend countless hours a day drinking milk from what Maddie calls mommy’s “boogies” (she can say boobies, she just chooses not to).

Here are some glimpses into my new normal:

1. If my van or a room is too quiet, my bigger fear is not that someone is up to something, it’s because I’ve accidentally misplaced one of my children.

2. Loading up my minivan in the torrential rain with all the kids, besides looking like I’m starring in a Honda Odyssey commercial, also makes me feel like I’m on an extreme Japanese game show where I am dodging water while lifting 80 pounds worth of tiny humans as I’m playing Tetris with car seats and groceries.

3. There is three times as much eating going on in our house as sleeping; someone is always eating and someone is always awake.

4. Now when my husband has the big girls and I just have only the baby, it makes me feel like I’m on a mini vacation.

5. The new volume of my life is permanently set to teenage-girls-at-a-boy-band concert level loud with emotions equally as strong.

Our new normal may look a lot like unfolded laundry left on the stairs, standing, one-handed meals, and blurry tutus in motion; but to me it looks like happiness.