One Day You Will Have Nice Things

We all started from the same place. We needed that little bundle of joy to make our family feel whole. All we could think about was stylish nursery decor, adorable baby clothes, tiny diapers and that pink lotion that is, in fact, the epitome of baby smell. This baby will teach us what unconditional love is all about! She will make us better people! Our life will be perfect!

Perfect indeed until that baby ruins everything you own.

Like many of you, once upon a time we had trendy furniture. We had the latest in electronics and gadgets that made all of our single friends envious. Then we had kids and our focus (and all of our money) went to them. Like many parents, we wanted them to have the best: the cutest clothes, popular toys, the best preschool education and involvement in every toddler extracurricular activity that we could afford. We were proud of the things that we were able to provide for our child. We all want better for our kids than we had. Right?

Then one day, while sitting there with our smug sense of accomplishment and ridiculous grins, we began to look around our house. What has happened here? What is this war zone that we call home? And if you’re like us, four kids deep into parenting, this is what your “war zone” looks like:

You begin with the couch that you’re sitting on. Your once trendy leather sofa is now smeared with dried boogers and stuffed with Goldfish. Your coffee table has bite marks which you once thought were adorable but in the grand scheme of things, not so endearing. Your TV is not a big screen, nor HD or LCD, or any of those other fancy television terms. It has a macaroni-box sized remote… when you can find it.

If you dare look at your floors you will see your once shiny hardwood is now chipped and dull. Heaven forbid if you have carpet because it will have seen things that you cannot speak of because Resolve can only do so much. Your walls are littered with crayon art work that Magic Eraser could not erase. Those once white baseboards are now streaked with solid black scuff lines and you don’t even know for sure how that happened.

Then, you have a flashback. Cold chills run down your spine as you are transported to your own childhood… this is very reminiscent of the house you grew up in. And then realize, it wasn’t that your dad was lazy or that your mom was complacent or they didn’t also want all the best things for you, too. Your living conditions were all YOUR FAULT!

You dart outside to take a look at the family car. It still has cool points, right? It was once a shiny, brand new SUV…FOUR YEARS AGO! You look at the soccer field dust on the once gorgeous black paint, because who has time to wash their car? (And you will be back at the soccer field in a couple of days anyway.) The once gray carpet looks like a Twister mat, all multicolored from dirty cleats and spilled juice boxes. The windows are smeared with hand prints and exactly why does every kid insist on licking glass? The leather seats are smeared with, that’s right, more boogers. It is more than you can take. Your life is no longer your own. You aren’t THAT mom! Your mom. You have a strict no-french-fries-in-the-car rule. When did you let your guard down and move into survival mode?

You think about your parents and your childhood again, (because how can you not?) The orange shag carpet-they didn’t want that. It was all they could afford and the only one that would hide your filthy messes. The avocado green appliances? The last time they could afford to upgrade you were four, and sure maybe 15 years later they weren’t so cute, but they still worked. That couch with the worn-thin cushions and terrible flowered pattern? It wasn’t that your mother didn’t long for a new one. She just didn’t see the point because you were just going to ruin it anyway. And that hideous wood paneled station wagon? It all makes perfect sense now.

And now I remember when I left home. My mother was so emotional. She was excited for me to get out there and experience the world, but life without her baby was going to be an adjustment. As I stood there with my last packed box, she hugged me tight. I saw tears in her eyes. She watched me walk to my car. She waved goodbye and slowly closed the door. I pictured her alone in that big house, moping around.

BUT now I know the truth. She closed that door……and laughed and laughed and laughed then proceeded to do back hand springs across the family room. You see her house was now her own again. I mean think about it every friend that I had growing up, once they moved out, their mother turned their bedroom into an office, or a sewing room, or a craft room. They got all new furniture, large televisions and swimming pools. Why? Because they could. They did their time. They devoted years to you and now it was their turn. Time to do what they want. Time to buy what they liked. Time to find themselves again.

With this realization I actually felt at peace. My nasty carpet, outdated bathrooms and less than glamorous mom-wardrobe is okay. We sacrifice because having kids is more rewarding than white plush carpet, marble bathrooms or master closets compete with furniture and pink chandeliers. We are happy just being boring, embarrassing, dependable mom. Then as the time nears for you to fly the nest, we will think about every single thing that we have lived without over the last 18 years and start making our shopping list. Of course, we only do this to help deal with the pain of losing you.

Tonja used to live in the grown up world, but now she has a husband, four kids and a princess dog. She refuses to lose her sanity, or herself. If she’s going to be the mother of four, she’ll do it in great shoes. You can read more about Tonja’s hilarious escapades on her blog.