Pocket Full of Hot-Wheels
Woah Y’all. Twenty-five snuck up on me, my mid-twenties hit me like a figurative train. Seriously, all aboard the hot mess express over here. When you become a young mom, and I mean eighteen/nineteen with that high school sweetheart you just knew would be the one, you think you have it all figured out. “I get to be young with my kids", "I won’t be old when they’re off to college”, “you guys are going to be 40 and still in the car riders line at the elementary school, but not me”. All I can say to nineteen year old me is, buckle down for some shit girl. And get off that high horse, because believe it or not life changes in the blink of an eye, and boy can it throw some punches.
Here I am, divorced and living in Tennessee with a one year old at twenty-five. That “high school sweetheart” back in Kentucky found comfort in other women, while his wife grieved the loss of their first child. I grew from that naive teenager with rose colored glasses, into a woman who went through hell and came out the other side, very much scathed, but still kicking. This season of life has given me so many sleepless nights, a perfectly rambunctious toddler, and eye bags…dark puffy “looks like I have two black eyes” eye bags. Nothing makes you feel old like having to buy under eye cream for the first time.
Twenty-five is an age where you are the people you grew up with can all be in totally different stages of life. When you were younger, you thought it seemed so old. Some of us are single, just getting out of college and have the world at our finger tips. Some of us a married and starting families. Some are traveling the world with no responsibilities. Me? I just wish I could have a glass of wine before bed without feeling like I was tackled by a linebacker when I wake up the next morning with my co-sleeping son’s foot in my neck. Believe it or not, I used to excel at tequila shots on a night out. I’m scared to even try it anymore, because, honestly who can live through that hangover while wiping little butts all day? A stronger lady than me, that’s for sure.
When you pictured motherhood, you probably never envisioned yourself as that lady going nuts with excitement over your kid taking one bite of a chicken nugget at Mcdonald's. I sure didn't, hey, I don’t know about you guys, but I celebrate the tiny victories and pick my battles now days. Momming is rarely ever picture perfect. Sometimes, your kid looks like a gap model and you are walking around with six hot wheels in your hoodie pocket at the park. At the end of the day though, when those kiddos only want their mama, and you get all the sweet snuggles- you don't feel so much like you are messing up the mom thing.
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You have to laugh at yourself, girls. Find the good in the bad, when you want to be dramatic and lose your ever-loving shit. Say, over the melted chocolate chips smeared across your toddler like war paint. Snap a picture, because after that bath it's going to be funny and you know it. Take a second to appreciate the crazy moments too, even when you want to cry or even scream. When you are up to your eyeballs in housework and the toys are already covering every inch of the floor you just mopped. Remember they're only little once, and sing the clean up song twenty more times that day while they pick them back up. Because, who are we kidding-we can't let go of that idea of a clean house until day two- at least.
Don't forget you aren't the only one feeling the pressures of motherhood. Call a friend or meet up somewhere your kids can play together. I know I immediately feel better when I can vent to someone who is going through it or at least knows what I'm talking about. It will be cathartic for you both, plus those crazy kids will get some energy out and might actually nap if you're lucky!
These mid-twenties babies are definitely harder on you than the late teens/ almost twenty ones. You feel every late night and early morning a little bit more, and oh that back pain from holding another human being all day long is fun too. I wouldn't change it for the world though. I will always be thankful for little hands to hold, slobbery kisses, and booties to wipe. Every single second is precious, even when I'm exhausted and frustrated from being in the house all day with a tiny wrecking ball of pure energy, I thank the lord for allowing me to be a mother again.
