This October 8th marks my third year on this adventure called motherhood. Which, of course, also means that the kiddo turns 3. To some, three years may sound like a very short time, and to others it may be long, but for me it has been both, all at the same time. Short because in the blink of an eye my son went from fitting into my one arm to being half my length. Long because there are ‘those’ days when you just can’t wait until they get past the ‘pushing every button you have’ stage, when you can’t wait for them to get out of your face for just one hour of the day, when you need an hour to just not have to think for another human being.
“Nobody said raising a child is easy.” Nothing more true than that. But then of course nobody can actually put into words just how difficult it really is! And even when people do try to tell you just how exhausting it is, you don’t REALLY take it all in.
I guess just wanted to put out a little entry with, I suppose, things that I learned/remember from the past 3 years. After reading dozens of blogs myself when I had just given birth, I found that there is always at least ONE person out there who feels the same as you at a certain point in time, which made me feel better.
I can only thank God that every day is a new day, because almost every day is a battle with yourself, whether it was a #parentingforthewin kind of day or an #epicfail. When I say #epicfail, I mean there are days that I lose, for me it’s either I lost my temper (a lot), or I spent most of the day doing something personal whether it be something creative or simply watching my shows on tv. or as simple as all I managed to get him to eat was french fries. We don’t have any house help or nanny so on days that I choose to do anything personal, it means that my son basically has to try and entertain himself (which of course also means asking me questions every 5 minutes) but by the end of the day I end up feeling like I let him be bored all day, because he is not exactly the kind of kid who likes doing anything alone. In fact seeing him play with his toys alone for more than 10 minutes is always very very surprising.
I guess the biggest reason it’s a constant struggle for me is because I’ve always been someone who stays in their room all day, happily alone and away from everyone, yet from day one that my son came into the world, I haven’t had that liberty (and on occasions that I do get half an hour to myself I feel guilty for being away!).
Motherhood definitely teaches you a lot about yourself, pushes you to be better, shows you a lot of your imperfections, makes you question what kind of person you are (and you won’t always like what you find, but then at least you can do something about it.) You realise that there are so many opinions and ways of doing things that you just have to find what’s right for you, even if it doesn’t follow what other people say. You’ll notice the split between doting moms, who seem to love every minute of the day and make it sound like it’s all rainbows and flowers, and then the sarcastic moms who sit around in pajamas and look forward to just 10 minutes of no kid in her face. (No question as to what category I’m in!) And when I say ‘sit’ around, I mean sit for two minutes and get up again like a yoyo because the munchkin decided that tearing all the pages off of a blank notepad and scattering them around the room was a good idea. Along with emptying all the contents of the box of toys onto the floor.
Damian’s only turning three, yet I’ve already forgotten a lot of what it was like when he was an infant. Probably because he’s my first baby so I just remember always looking forward to all the milestones, and not really taking in every minute of his infant-ness. I couldn’t wait for his first laugh, his first roll, his first crawl, his first stand, eating for the first time, saying his first word, taking his first step etc. (Of course I also couldn’t wait to finally have me time either.) Those firsts pass by, and you see that now you have a child in front of you, and he’s no longer a baby. 
He has his own mind, he’s got his own weird personality (where he gets it is up for debate!), he needs constant activity, he asks a million questions a day and, surprisingly, he really really loves you. I mean we must be doing something right, right? At the end of every day (and even sometimes when he wakes up in the morning), he’ll look at us and ask “how was your day?”. You know how when you’re older and you could do a million good things and people will only notice the ONE bad thing you did? I’ve noticed that with my toddler it’s the opposite. He drives me batty 24/7, but he does one sweet thing, and everything’s forgotten. A kiss on the hand, a compliment like ‘mummy you look like a princess!’ or ‘you have nice hair’, a ‘power’ hug- and the spilled milk, the spilled everything, is forgiven.
There are new moms, and moms who have already been where you are. I get why everyone feels the need to dish out their own ‘advice’ specially those who have already gone through what you’re going through, but what works for one, doesn’t always work for another. All kids are different, and even the moms too! What one extroverted mother did may not work for one introverted mother, what one career oriented mother did may not fit into the life of someone who would rather stay home. Doesn’t mean one is better than the other, and isn’t a reason to feel bad.
What do I remember the most about the beginning? My ppd. I think I was the happiest pregnant person out there, which is why I couldn’t understand why it was the complete opposite when I finally gave birth. I had been waiting 9 months to see the little bub, and as soon as they handed him to me, meh. No instant bond, like in the movies where the mom cries and it’s like a hallmark card, I just wanted to sleep. 
Then of course I didn’t realize that that was the last day I was ever going to get any sleep, which added to the depression. I cried everyday for no reason, and nobody could do anything about it. I hated breastfeeding and only did it because, well because it was what I was ‘supposed’ to do. Whenever my son cried I didn’t want to pick him up, I just wanted to be left alone. Good thing the husband was around the first 3 weeks, because he basically did everything (all the carrying, poop changing, even night poop changing!). Despite the lack of ‘bond’, I took photos of him everyday, still witnessed all the little moments. Then, there wasn’t any specific event or reason, but after 7 weeks I just became a person again and stopped crying. I remember reading an article that spoke about how some people need time to get to know their baby, just like when you’re getting to know an adult, and not to feel bad if there isn’t an instant connection. Of course after the first 3 months of 24/7 attachment parenting, we were bound to be inseparable, even ’til now we haven’t had one day apart! (Not to say that one day away doesn’t sound wonderful sometimes).
Anyway, kind of all over the place here because of course I couldn’t write this entry in one go, actually not even one day, with all the ‘mummy build the lego’, ‘mummy I want banana milk’, ‘mummy I pooped’. So with Damian’s third birthday coming up, despite how mentally and at times physically exhausting he may be, he’s definitely worth every sleepless night, every unfinished meal, every mess that must be cleaned, every missed night out, every t-shirt ruined by feeding.
Because who wouldn’t love that face? 🙂
Mr. Grumps & The Itchy Gums 