To my Lily: I love you the most. You introduced me to the world of motherhood and made us a family. I love how genuinely kind and sweet you are. I love how you consider any alone time with me now a special date, even if we just go to the market. I love how nurturing and compassionate you are to animals and people, alike. I love watching you draw and the pride you take in your art. I love how you hug like you’re never going to let go. I love how thoughtful you are, always. I love your tan lines and the tiny birthmark on your cheek. I love hearing from teachers and neighbors how wonderful you are, even though I already know. I love talking to you on the phone, on the rare occasion when I’m not at home. I love reading the little notes you leave around the house and hearing you read to your brothers. You are my absolute favorite.

To my Ben: I love you the most. You were the sweetest baby in the world and I literally didn’t put you down for over a year. I love your exuberance and enthusiasm. I love how you wake up every morning in a fantastic mood, no matter how you went to bed the night before. I love how easy to please you can be. I love the smell of your neck and the color of your magic eyes, whether they are green, gray or blue that day. I love holding your hand and the face you make when you spot me at school. I love the way your voice gets really high when you’re excited and that you actually squeal with delight. I love that you “remember being born.” I love how much you worship your sister and the way you watch her when she’s not looking. I love your favorite teddy bear and how cool you look in sunglasses. You are my absolute favorite.

To my Evan: I love you the most. You will always be my baby, even though you insist that you are a big boy. I love your husky voice and the way your repeat everything you hear even though half the time, you have no idea what you’re saying. I love watching you try to keep up with your siblings and their friends. I love the humming sound you make when you really like what you’re eating. I love watching you play and how you can make a game of pretty much anything. I love how much you love making people laugh. I love the way you say my name. I love your pudgy thighs and your knees and the way you look in your pajamas. I love the way you hold my face with two hands when you give me a kiss. I love hearing you thump down the stairs in the morning. You round out our family, completely. You are my absolute favorite.

{For the record, you each got the exact same number of words. It’s even.}

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To my husband…

It feels like yesterday that we were two crazy kids, barely eighteen and and hopelessly in love. Where have the last 15 years gone?

But, I look at what we have learned, what we have become and what we have created — together– and I can’t believe it has only been that long. I can barely remember what my life was like without you in it. Thank you for allowing me to publicly ridicule you, for putting up with my craziness and for supporting me every step of the way. I would not be who I am without you. You are the best friend and best husband a girl could ask for. Happy Birthday, my love.

And, to my mom…

You have always and will always be my biggest cheerleader. Your love and support knows no limits and you have taught me what a mother should be. I love you.

And, to all of you moms…

Get some sleep and don’t you dare wash any clothes or change any diaper blowouts. Happy Mother’s day!!

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©Scary Mommy™ 2010 All rights reserved.

Lily, my baby girl, my heart swells with so much pride and love for you. I am so very blessed to be your Mommy, and so filled with excitement as I think about the years to come. Happy, Happy Birthday, my love. I adore you.

{A post from Jeff  for his little girl}

If I’ve learned anything as a parent to three small children, it’s that you love them all equally, but not the same. With Ben, it’s about his curiosity and his wisdom (seriously–as silly as it sounds–he is a wise, wise boy). With Evan, it’s about his spunk and charisma. If there is such a thing as an “It” factor for a toddler, Evan has it.

And then there is Lily. My darling, precious, perfect Lily.

As the first child and the only girl, Lily has an inherently prime place in our family. That would have been enough, if it were the only thing going for the girl. But lucky for me, it’s not.

Lily has a heart that is warm and full.  She doesn’t just love, she LOVES. And I can’t think of anything that makes me feel as good as being loved by her.

Lily hugs like her life depends on it, and she smiles with a sincerity that belies her age.

Lily is deeply, naturally empathetic.  Others’ pain hurts her–even though sometimes it’s one of her brothers in pain and she is the cause.

In her six short years, Lily has taught me so much, and she continues to shape who I am. I am thankful we didn’t wait a moment longer to start our family (accident, what accident??), otherwise I’d have lived too long without knowing what it feels like being Lily’s daddy. And that’s a feeling I can’t get enough of.

Happy Birthday, our beautiful baby girl. You are extraordinary.

xoxo

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©Scary Mommy™ 2010 All rights reserved.

You guys amazed me this week. When I asked you to write about how you were a Scary Mommy, I thought that maybe 20 of you would. I hoped for that. I feared that nobody would at all. The number of entries simply astounded me. Over the past week, I’ve read 114 amazing posts. 114 relatable posts. 114 heartfelt, honest, poetic, frightening and creative posts. Posts by moms of multiples, moms on the other side of the world, moms I’ve competed with and moms I’ve had the joy to meet in person. Posts that made me smile and laugh andtear up. A post written from the perspective of a child and a post that humbled me with its beauty. I’ve truly loved every last one.

If you haven’t had a chance to read the other entries, please take some time to. Bookmark that post and return to it on a day when you feel like you are the only one who doesn’t always do this parenting gig perfectly. Bookmark it for when you feel alone, and scared and overwhelmed. And, take solace knowing that you aren’t alone– we’re all here, reading, writing and supporting each other. And we’re all a bit scary.

Without further ado, I present to you the winner of the Flip video camera and feature on Eliza’s Motherhood blog…

A Very Wealthy Life by Sarah at Momalom

This is the place where we admit it all. Where we say what we can’t say to our friends at the playground. To our neighbors at a backyard barbecue. Where we coddle the voice that sits within. The one that whines in frustration at all the chores and the failures. The deeds undone. The lives we don’t have. But we want. The people we see inside ourselves. But can’t always become.

This is the place where we try not to portray ourselves as someone in particular. We place no judgment. We find no fear. We look for resolve.

This is the place. Where I am most me.

And perhaps this is what is most scary. About being a mommy. That motherhood requires this place. For me. Right now. A secret world of blogs and tweets. Perceptions unveiled. Truths revealed. Melodies sung among a harmony of sisters online. Women. Mothers. Caretakers.

And I am just one woman.

I’m not scary smart. I don’t have a superior IQ. I’m not scary beautiful. My face bears no resemblance to an Italian Renaissance sculpture – except for maybe its pallor. I’m not scary gifted. I have no defining talent. No artistic outlet or craft, nor study nor hobby that regularly distracts me from the mundane. No natural ability that defines me in any sense. Besides parenting, that is. And everything that “parent” connotes.

I’m not scary emotional. I’m not scary stylish. I’m not scary mommish. I’m not scary conservative, or liberal, or bland. I’m not scary obstinate, nor scary lame. I’m not scary rich. But I’m wealthy. Yes I’m oh very scary wealthy.

Because,
you see,
there are these children.

These, them, those guys over there. Yup, right there. The ones that are tackling each other in the next room. I have them. They are my weakness. They breed my weakness. And I have no trouble admitting to it. Any of it. My love for them and my contempt. My anger and dismay about everything they take from me and all that I am not because of them. My ache and joy and every wish for everything they hope for and deserve.

Because of this scary, scary wealth, I am very scary honest. This, above all else, is what makes me a scary mom: my need to breathe honesty and truth about everything and all that I have become since children poured from my womb and broadened the capacity of my heart to love.

I struggle with this need for transparency. This need to explore the depths of emotion brought on by mothering three children. By raising my boys in the best way I know how. With trial and error. With great failures and even greater successes. I don’t need to list all that I do wrong. Nor tag all my flaws. They are there to be seen. I curse. I cry. I crave freedom. I expose it all for the world to see. And though sometimes I fear what the world sees in me, I fear not what I see in myself. It is my sole reason for truth. For honest emotion. For honestly writing about these emotions.

I need to be everything that I can be. This is my only shot. I am their only mother. This “gig.” This oh so overwhelming gig of motherhood. Caretaker. Mouthfeeder. Nurturer. Hugger. Kisser. Keeper of the hearts in this home of ours. It is a tall order. To fill it is daunting. I’m not sure I know how. Will ever know. Should even strive to know. What I do know is I put one toe out there and let the rest follow along. I have to trust that what I am about to do is all that I can do in any given moment, and yet remember that there is always another way to do it, and I am not stuck. And I can always just stop, and give someone a hug. And admit I am often clueless. And move on. And try again.

What I hope is that this honesty enriches my life – and the lives around me. That giving this of myself will be a model for my children. That they will see how hard I work to share my truest thoughts with them and the people that I love. And that no one will hold it against me that I’ve found a small niche of the universe to share it with.

—————————-

Pretty fantastic, huh? I just loved it.

The fan favorite, and winner of the Motherhood t-shirt, movie poster and set of aden+ anais blankets is Leigh from Leigh vs. Laundry . Her post is terrific, and her readers were incredibly vocal in their support for her.

Thank you all so much for writing, this has been a wonderful experience. And you are all Scary Mommies in my book.

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©Scary Mommy™ 2010 All rights reserved.

I remember the moment quite vividly that Lily looked like a kid to me, rather than a little girl. It was heartbreaking and exciting at once. My Benji seems to be approaching that line rapidly. He’s getting to be so strong willed and independent and I’m just not ready for him to grow up so quickly.

Fortunately, he still sleeps on my floor every night and poops in a diaper. I think I have a good few months left until he fully transitions into a big boy, and I’m in no rush. Well, except for the poop part.

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©Scary Mommy™ 2010 All rights reserved.

We’ve been waiting all summer for today.

But now that it’s here,

I just want her home.

And she couldn’t disagree more.

{Update 4:00 PM: School was “SO much FUN! I Loved it,” she reported. She cannot wait to go back– I don’t think I EVER felt that way about school. It’s adorable!}

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©Scary Mommy™ 2010 All rights reserved.

The 4th of July has always been special to me. I was born just a few days before, on the same day as my grandpa. Our birthdays, and later just mine, turned into a week long celebration. Some of my best childhood memories were made during this time of parades, parties and fireworks.

The home I grew up in was on the main street in a small ocean town, right across from the water. The view was to die for. The house, a Queen Anne Victorian, a masterpiece. It had a turret, original stained glass windows, chandeliers and the most spectacular staircase. It was flawed for modern living though, as all old houses are. There was no family room, no master bath, the washing machine was housed in my brother’s room, and its formality wasn’t ideal for young kids. But, once a year, for celebrating our countries independence, it was perfection.

The fireworks were set off from a barge directly across from our house. For a dinky little town, we sure knew how to put on a firework display. Each year was fantastic and our porch was the prime location for watching them. My parents would have parties, ranging from large to small. We’d pile on and look below at the folks who had to settle for a street view, vendor’s hot dogs and folding lawn chairs. We ate delicious food, wrapped ourselves in blankets and felt like the rich and famous for a night. I’ll never forget the sight of the bright colors dancing in the sky or the loud bangs as they exploded above “our” beach. It was the best night of the year.

A few short years after I left my childhood home for college, my parents divorced and sold the house. My childhood wasn’t perfect, but somehow that house represents all things good to me. The year our house was sold, the fireworks combined with the next town over and are now set off there. It gives me closure knowing we were the last family to celebrate with that view.

Every year at this time I feel like a little girl again. I long for my home town. I long for the beach, the fireworks and my whole family. I now have the daunting task of building 4th of July memories for my kids. I’ll try, knowing it will be hard to beat what I had.

Impossible, actually.

Originally published July 4, 2008

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©Scary Mommy™ 2010 All rights reserved.

We love you.

The Scary Mommy Society is open for guest posts. Check it out!

©Scary Mommy™ 2010 All rights reserved.