Over the course of the past few weeks, every time I sat down to write, only one sentence wanted to surface, over and over again: Mommy needs a break from every question beginning with the word “Mommy.”
It was such a frustrating thought! How could I write about my experiences in Momdom if I couldn’t even get past that one, silly sentence? Being a mom is what I do; it’s the breath I breathe.
How, then, could I get so frustrated at hearing my name?
Even when my tiny human exclaimed, “O M my G!” and thousands of Valley girl remarks came to mind–all of which were worthy writing material–I kept cycling back to the near-constant Mommy questions.
Questions I couldn’t handle.
Questions that made me want to take refuge in my room, cowering under a mountain of pillows.
Sitting, staring at my computer, I would think, “Dang, Negative! Hello! I cannot write about taking a break from my name!”
And then I would think, “Wasn’t there a time when my name wasn’t Mommy, and it wasn’t called out a billion times a day?”
… And then I would hear, “Mommy?” sigh in frustration, and shut the computer. By that point, that dang Mommy Guilt had surfaced. I pretty much walked around for weeks feeling like a heinous shrew of a mother, undeserving of raising my awesome, tiny person.
At least I did, until I came across an interesting tidbit of information. Just as I was ready to repeatedly bash my head into the keyboard, I stumbled across a fun fact about four year-olds. In the span of minutes, the article made my entire world perspective change.
Want to hear it? It’s fantastic.