Motherhood - it will change your life

We are sitting at lunch when she casually mentioned that she and her husband are thinking of "starting a family." "We're taking a survey," she says, half joking "Do you think I should have a baby?"

"It will change your life," I say carefully, keeping my tone neutral.

"I know," she says, "no more sleeping in on the weekend, no more spontaneous vacations..." But that is not what I meant at all. I look at my friend, trying to decide what to tell her.

I want her to know what she will never learn in child birth classes. I want to tell her that the physical wounds of child bearing heal, but that becoming a mother will leave her with an emotional wound so raw that she will be forever vulnerable.

I consider warning her that she will never read a newspaper again without asking "What if that had been MY child?" That every plane crash, every fire will haunt her. < style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt">

That when she sees pictures of starving children, she will wonder if anything could be worse than watching your child die.

I look at her carefully manicured nails and stylish suit and think that no

matter how sophisticated she is, becoming a mother will reduce her to the primitive level of a bear protecting her cub. That an urgent call of "Mom!" will cause her to drop a souffle or her best crystal without a moment's hesitation.

I feel I should warn her that no matter how many years she has invested in her career, she will be professionally derailed by motherhood. She might arrange for child care, but one day she will be going into an important business meeting and she will think about her baby's sweet smell. She will have to use every ounce of her discipline to keep from running home, just to make sure her baby is all right.

I want my friend to know that everyday decisions will no longer be routine. That a five year old boy's desire to go to the men's room rather than the women's at McDonalds will become a major dilemma. That right there, in the midst of clattering trays and screaming children, issues of independence and gender identity will be weighed against the prospect that a child molester may be lurking in that restroom. However decisive she may be at the office, she will second-guess herself constantly as a mother.

Looking at my attractive friend, I want to assure her that eventually she will shed the pounds of pregnancy, but she will never feel the same about herself. That her life, now so important, will be of less value to her once she has a child. That she would give it up in a moment to save her offspring, but will also begin to hope for more years - not to accomplish her own dreams, but to watch her child accomplish theirs.

I want her to know that a cesarean scar or shiny stretch marks will become badges of honor.

My friend's relationship with her husband will change, but not in the ways she thinks. I wish she could understand how much more you can love a man who is always careful to powder the baby or never hesitates to play with his child. I think she should know that she will fall in love with him again for reasons she would now find very unromantic.

I wish my friend could sense the bond she'll feel with women throughout history who have tried desperately to stop war and prejudice and drunk driving. I hope she will understand why I can think rationally about most issues, but become temporarily insane when I discuss the threat of nuclear war to my children's future.

I want to describe to my friend the exhilaration of seeing your child learn to ride a bike. I want to capture for her the belly laugh of a baby who is touching the soft fur of a dog or cat for the first time. I want her to taste the joy that is so real, it actually hurts. My friend's quizzical look makes me realize that tears have formed in my eyes.  

"You'll never regret it," I say finally. Then I reach across the table, squeeze my friend's hand, and offer a silent prayer for her, and for me, and for all of the mere mortal women who stumble their way into this most wonderful of callings.   

Being a parent

The house is untidy from window to door,

Marks on the walls and food on the floor.

The washing's unwashed

And the dishes are too,

There's scum in the bathroom

And fat on the stew.

There are toys in the passage    And under our feet;

The garden's a jungle   When seen from the street.

So what have I done, then   To earn my repose?

To just look around me   You'd say no-one knows!

I've held a small hand  As her first steps she took.

I've made animal noises  As we read a book.

I've built a mud pie  And admired a snail,

I've rescued the cat  From a grip on her tail.

I've wiped away tears,  And I've listened to the tales.

I've used medication  To get smiles from wails.

So I guess what I've done  Isn't easy to see -

It won't clean the house  And it won't cook the tea

But if I have helped make a child feel good,

Know that she's loved and that she's understood,

Then I know that my work, though not easy to see

is just as important as any could be.

Buying Time

A man came home from work late again, tired, irritated, and stressed, to find his 6-year-old son waiting for him at the door. 

"Daddy, may I ask you a question?" 

"Yeah, sure, what is it?" replied the man. 

"Daddy, how much money do you make an hour?"

 "That is none of your business! What makes you ask such a question?" the man said irritatingly. 

"Oh, I just want to know. Please tell me, how much do you make an hour?" pleaded the little boy. 

"Well, if you must know, I make $20.00 an hour." 

"Oh," the little boy replied, head bowed. 

Looking up, he said, "Daddy, may I barrow $10.00 please?"

The father was irritated. "If the only reason you want to know how much money I make is so you can barrow some for a dopey toy or other nonsense, then off to your room and think about your selfishness. And besides, you're only 6 years old, and 6 year-olds don't need money. I work long, hard hours every day to earn money for you and your mom, I don't have time to talk about loaning you money". 

The little boy went quietly to his room and shut the door. After about an hour, the father had calmed down, and started to think he may have been a little hard on his son. Maybe there really was a reason he needed to barrow $10.00, he had never asked before for money. 

The father went to the boy's room and knocked on the door. "May I come in?" inquired the father. 

"Yes Daddy," replied the little boy. 

"I have been thinking, maybe I was too hard on you earlier," said the man. "It has been a long, tough day and I took my anger out on you. Here's the $10.00 you asked for." 

The little boy sat up straight and beaming said "Oh thank you Daddy!" Then, reaching under his pillow, he pulled out some crumpled up dollars. The father seeing that the boy already had money started to get angry again. The little boy slowly started to count out his money, then looked up at his father. 

"Why did you want more money if you already had some?" the father grumbled. "Because I didn't have enough, but now I do," the little boy replied. 

"For what," said his father. "Daddy, I have $20.00 now. Can I buy an hour of your time?"

 -- Author Unknown

The Cost of a Child

I have seen repeatedly the breakdown of the cost of raising a child, but this is the first time I have seen the rewards listed this way. It's nice, really nice!!

The government recently calculated the cost of raising a child from birth to 18 and came up with $160,140 for a middle income family.Talk about sticker shock! That doesn't even touch college tuition. But $160,140 isn't so bad if you break it down. It translates into $8,896.66 a year, $741.38 a month, or $171.08 a week.

 That's a mere $24.24 a day! Just over a dollar an hour.
 Still, you might think the best financial advice says don't have children
 if you want to be "rich." It is just the opposite.
 What do your get for your $160,140?

 Naming rights. First, middle, and last!

 Glimpses of God every day.

 Giggles under the covers every night.

 More love than your heart can hold.

 Butterfly kisses and Velcro hugs.

 Endless wonder over rocks, ants, clouds, and warm cookies.

 A hand to hold, usually covered with jam.

 A partner for blowing bubbles, flying kites, building sandcastles, and skipping down the sidewalk in the pouring rain.
 Someone to laugh yourself silly with no matter what the boss said or how your stocks performed that day.
 For $160,140, you never have to grow up.
 You get to finger-paint, carve pumpkins, play hide-and-seek, catch
 lightning bugs, and never stop believing in Santa Claus.

 You have an excuse to keep: reading the Adventures of Piglet and Pooh,
 watching Saturday morning cartoons, going to Disney movies, and wishing on
 stars.

 You get to frame rainbows, hearts, and flowers under refrigerator magnets
 and collect spray painted noodle wreaths for Christmas,  hand prints set
 in clay for Mother's Day, and cards with backward letters for Father's Day.

 For $160,140, there is no greater bang for your buck.

 You get to be a hero just for retrieving a Frisbee off the garage roof, taking the training wheels off the bike, removing a splinter, filling a wading pool, coaxing a wad of gum out of bangs, and coaching a baseball team that never wins but always gets treated to ice cream regardless.

 You get a front row seat to history to witness the first step, first word,first bra, first date, and first time behind the wheel.

 You get to be immortal.

 You get another branch added to your family tree, and if you're lucky, a
 long list of limbs in your obituary called grandchildren.

 You get an education in psychology, nursing, criminal justice, communications, and human sexuality that no college can match.

 In the eyes of a child, you rank right up there with God.

 You have all the power to heal a boo-boo, scare away the monsters under the bed, patch a broken heart, police a slumber party, ground them forever, and love them without limits, so one day they will, like you, love without counting the cost.

 ENJOY YOUR KIDS AND GRANDKIDS.

 The best things in life are family and friends!!!!!!

Memos from your child

Don't spoil me.

   I know quite well I shouldn't have all I ask for.

   I'm only testing you.

Don't be afraid to be firm with me.

   I prefer it; it makes me feel secure.

Don't let me form bad habits.

   I have to rely on you to detect them in early stages.

Don't let me feel smaller than I am.

   It only makes me behave stupidly “big”.

Don't correct me in front of other people if you can help it.

   I'll take more notice if you talk quietly in private.

Don't protect me from consequences.

   I need to learn the painful way sometimes.

Don't make me feel my mistakes are sins.

   It upsets my sense of values.

Don't be too upset when I say “ I hate you.”

   It isn't you I hate but your power to thwart me.

Don't take too much notice of my self airments.

   Sometimes they get me the attention I need.

Don't nag.

   If you do, I'll have to protect myself by appearing deaf.

Don't forget that I can't explain myself as welll as I'd like.

   This is why I'm not always very accurate.

Don't tax my honesty too much.

   I'm easily frieghtened into telling lies.

Don't be inconsistent.

   It completely confuses me and makes me lose faith in you.

Don't put me off when I ask questions.

   If you do, you'll find I stop asking and seek information elsewhere.

Don't tell me my fears are silly.

   They are terribly real.

Don't ever suggest that you are perfect or infallible.

   It gives me too great a shock when I find out you are neither.

Don't ever think it's beneath your dignity to apologize to me.

   An honest apology makes me surprisingly warm to you.

Don't forget I love experimenting.

   I can't get on without it, so please put up with it.

Don't forget how quickly I'm growing up.

   It must be hard to keep pace with me, but please try.

Author Unknown

Before I Was A Mom

Before I was a Mom I made and ate hot meals.

I had unstained clothing.

I had quiet conversations on the phone.

Before I was a Mom

I slept as late as I wanted and never worried about

how late I got into bed.

I brushed my hair and my teeth everyday.

Before I was Mom

I cleaned my house each day.

I never tripped over toys or forgot words to lullabies.

Before I was a Mom

I didn't worry whether or not my plants were poisonous.

I never thought about immunizations.

Before I was a Mom

I had never been puked on, pooped on, spit on, chewed on, peed on or pinched by tiny fingers

Before I was a Mom

I had complete control of my mind, my thoughts, my body and my mind.

I slept all night.

Before I was a Mom

I never held down a screaming child so that doctors could do tests or give shots.

I never looked into teary eyes and cried.

I never got gloriously happy over a simple grin.

I never sat up late hours at night watching a baby sleep.

Before I was a Mom

I never held a sleeping baby just because I didn't want to put it down.

I never felt my heart break into a million pieces when I couldn't stop the hurt.

I never knew that something so small could affect my life so much.

I never knew that I could love someone so much.

I never knew I would love being a Mom.

Before I was a Mom

I didn't know the feeling of having my heart outside my body.

I didn't know how special it could feel to feed a hungry baby.

I didn't know that bond between a Mother and her child.

I didn't know that something so small could make me feel so important.

Before I was a Mom

I had never gotten up in the middle of the night every 10 minutes to make sure all was ok

I had never known the warmth, the joy, the love the heartache, the wonderment or the satisfaction of being a Mom.

I didn't know I was capable of feeling so much before I was a Mom.

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