Mother = Master of the Universe?

When I became a mother, I expected to feel instantly “maternal”.  I thought I’d feel a little older.  Maybe, a little wiser.  As a child, and even a teen, I thought my mother knew the secrets of the universe!  There was no question she couldn’t answer.  Sage wisdom seemed to pour from her whenever I was stuck in a problem situation.  Even when I realized my mom was fallible, she remained one of my first resources for questions/problems.  She may not have known everything, but she sure knew a lot!   I guess part of me thought that after the birth, they handed you a darling little baby and a book with all the answers. 

Now, logically, I know that’s not true.  However, I really did think I’d feel like a slightly different person.  I have always entertained the hope that I would someday become a cross between Paula Deen and Martha Stewart.  Hahaha, yeah… That’s never gonna happen!  But I thought, as a mother, maybe I’d be more organized.  I thought I might instinctively know the secrets to raising children.  Maybe I would magically be a better-than-average housekeeper.  Perhaps I’d actually start making my way through my stack of “must try” recipes while balancing a baby on my hip.  Or really pursue my backyard garden next spring.  Be that mom that can do anything and still have perfect hair and a sparkling kitchen and well-adjusted children. 

Some of those things are true.  I really do want to get a garden going next spring and I do keep my house MUCH cleaner since I’m no longer working.  That’s about where the similarities stop.  My hair is NEVER perfect and my kitchen can sometimes be a little less than sparkling (*disaster!*).  I definitely don’t know the secrets of the universe (though, Richard and I have been working our way through a Discovery Channel series on the Universe… yeah, we’re that dorky).  And when Sam has a problem or question, I think the odds are 50/50 as to whether or not I’ll know the answer.  Here’s hoping my mom’s around to answer her phone when that time comes…!

Maybe I’m jumping the gun even thinking about such things now.  Maybe they send you that book after your child’s first birthday…?

In the meantime, I find that I still feel like my same old self.  There are days I don’t feel like cooking and it becomes a hot dog night.  There are days when my daughter doesn’t get her bath or my husband has to make his own tea.  I’m not perfect.  I don’t know everything.  I wasn’t before I had Sam and I won’t be now.  I still want to hang out with my friends and go to movies and get crafty and paint.  Some of those things I still get to do, some of them I don’t.  I still want to date my husband and really miss our quiet Scrabble games. 

It’s weird to think that my mom probably had similar thoughts or fears.  It’s weirder still to think that my mom was once going through the same things.  But then I think… If she could do it, so can I.  And if I turned out all right, then maybe Samantha isn’t doomed.  I try to cut myself a little slack.  After all, it’s only been 4 months.