the free falling truth about motherhood

I didn’t want to hear anyone say Mom for the next five minutes.

I just had enough.

Enough fighting, enough cleaning, enough of the same thing.

Enough of the battle, enough of feeling alone, enough of crazy.


I don’t know why I ever thought it would be easy, this whole crazy motherhood thing. I think it’s probably really good that we all have no clue that it could be this incredibly complicated and stressful thing that oftentimes is wrapped up in simple moments of crazy. Like unbelievably stretching of the patience and finding yourself in a battle with your five year old wearing.


In case you’re wondering, that happened as well. Somehow that sweet child with the adorable face decided that he had this will that meant fighting against every single move that I make. It doesn’t seem to matter in his world that I carried him into the clinic a month or so ago because he was struggling to breathe.

You’re the worst mom ever.

That’s what he told me.

And holy moly, it would be easy to believe that.

Especially after a day like today.

Today is the day when the noise is like fingernails on a chalkboard and where bedtime doesn’t seem like it will come soon enough. It’s the day where you feel like you’re racing around in the same circle – wipe the counter, sweep the floor, put the shoes away, tell them to stop fighting, get a snack and start again and repeat but add in some crying and phone ringing and that under the surface tension.


Motherhood is the ultimate test of will, patience mixed with no sleep and somedays where you think it’s awesome but also many days where you think what in the world am I doing right now?

findingjoybook_hannahnicolemartin (29 of 45)

That might be why I yelled, and yes for you non yellers, I yelled because I was so fed up down the stairs to my now fourteen year old that I am so so so not the perfect mom.

It’s like they expect me to be chill during their mass chaos moments. Do they not hear it? Does it not aggravate them to fight over who gets the headphones or that their brother had three extra minutes on the computer?

Probably not.

It’s really me trying to control a world filled with independent creatures. And in reality, which I should have learned in those early days when they came home as screaming newborns, that parenting is not about control but it’s a whole lot of free falling and establishing rules and falling flat on our faces and getting frustrated but deep down loving those kids.

Well, truth is this Рsome nights and days and moments and weeks and afternoons  you simply have to be okay with being okay. You have to be okay with getting through. You have to be okay with actually embracing the free falling. You have to make it about that. Not about looking at yourself and being frustrated that you had no patience.

No, it’s about making it.

Somedays you’ll feel like you’re the best and most amazing mom in the world. Savor those. That’s the truth about you. In fact, etch that in your heart, especially for the days when you sit outside a bedroom door while your kids throw a tantrum or they don’t call you or you want to skip cleaning and just get in the car and drive drive drive.

Perspective returns.

Oh, it returns. Often at midnight when they’re all sleeping so peacefully and if you’re like me you’ll be like what in the work made all that so complicated and frustrated?


Motherhood is frustration tucked into creatures that we love and teach and give and who probably never ever ever see that their mom is simply worn out.

They’re kids.

So to my kids I tell them – nope I’m not perfect.

But I’m your mom.

And I love you.

Love your kids. Even on those crazy free falling days.

That’s what matters most.


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One Response to “the free falling truth about motherhood”

  1. February 28, 2016

    ali @ an ordinary mom Reply

    So much truth.

    I’m continually amazed at how much more deep and complex everything about motherhood is than I ever could’ve anticipated…

    And that part about trying to control a world filled with independent beings, talk about an exercise in futility, and yet we keep trying. Why does it take so long to figure out the difference between controlling and guiding, and why do we so easily forget so soon after we do figure it out?

    Motherhood, toughest job we’ll ever love, and love to hate at the same time some days…

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