My bubble: A mom speaks out

When I first learned that I was going to become a mother, all my friends told me: “It’s going to change your life.” They were right!

Back then, however, I had no clue as to how right they would be. Pre-motherhood, I think I lived in a bubble of ignorance. Quite frankly, I enjoyed that bubble. In my bubble I looked forward to day trips with my husband and nights out on the town, just me and him. In my bubble, I could sleep in. Then, one day, my bubble popped…and I was thrust into a whole new reality.

When my first son was born, it was cultural shock. I was one of four supervisors in a well established preschool in California. I was well paid, I had a car that didn’t have fingerprints on the windows. I had a staff of four, and when I asked them to do something,  I didn’t need to count to 3.

I had breasts. Now taking off a bra reminds me of the day after a birthday party. Sad, saggy, slowly deflating balloons just floating lifelessly half-way to the ground, no two are the same size. I don’t want to give the impression that I sit around dreaming of a life I wish I still had. It’s just fun sometimes to remember the pre-mother days.

Now, my life is full of funny quotes from my older son, Alex. And then there’s trying to convince him that if he can go under the water at the swimming pool, he can certainly wash his hair without screaming.  I love the drooly smiles from Zach, my younger son. Surprisingly, I hear my mother’s voice coming out of my head on occasion. “Don’t come out of that room until you clean it,” and “Don’t eat that!”

My favorite mommy duty, however, is reading the boys a bedtime story and tucking them in after they’ve fallen asleep. Turning off the lights and tip-toeing out of the room in the dark. And just when I’ve made it to the door, I step with my bare foot on one of their sharp toys (such as one of those little army men with the bayonetts). But I can’t yell or I’ll wake them, so I silently hop around mouthing words that I shouldn’t say when they’re awake either.
 
I love my children, but there was a time when I wanted to stay childless. I can recall a vacation my husband and I took to Juno, Alaska. A family of 5 jumped on the tour bus with us and we jumped right off: “We’ll take the next one, that’s ok,” we smiled. Can’t have kids ruining our trip. Now, when we hear a child crying in a restaurant, you look up and give the mommy a smile of approval as if to say: “If it wasn‘t yours screaming it would have been mine.”

So nowadays instead of living in a bubble, I blow them. I am oftentimes chased by a small baby who will violently pound on the door until I come out of the bathroom, my sleep is interrupted for a feeding or diaper change. I take a half an hour getting ready for a two-minute trip to the grocery store, making sure I have a stroller, diaper bag, binkey, blankey and most importantly, a baby.

My back hurts, my hair has started to turn gray and I hide what two years of breastfeeding has done to my body in a push up bra. I don’t mind. It’s all for the honor of being called Mom. .

Happy Mother’s Day, Maricopa.

In memory of my grandmother, Dorothy Smith, who died Friday, May 7, 2010. The light you took leaves our world slightly dim, but I know we will meet again and you‘ll rekindle us.
(Erin Wheeler is a married mother of two living in the Glennwilde subdivision.)

Photo by Jim Williams