Unexpected Highs
Of matrescence and motherhood thus far
In my earliest days as a mom, I found the saccharine depictions of motherhood that peppered my social media feed and everyday life a constant nuisance; an awful irritation; a regular reminder of my own shortcomings.
On the Pampers “Little Movers” commercial, the well-rested, denim-clad mom looked utterly besotted as she chased after her crawling offspring, desperate for a diaper change.
On the Uppa Baby website, the professionally-dressed career mama wearing cream-colored cashmere and stylish heels effortlessly carries her baby in a car seat while the even-tempered child utters nary a protest.
And on Instagram, the postpartum doula and lactation specialist influencer I for some reason chose to follow spent an entire three-minute reel gushing about her life as a part-time working but basically stay-at-home mom to three spirited toddlers and an infant with a penchant for spitting up.
These mothers were all happy, content, and doing great. Nothing phased them. Motherhood had made them whole!
I, on the other hand, was not.
That being said, having made it five years into my journey of motherhood and matrescence, I can confidently say it wasn’t all bad. It isn’t all bad.
In fact, it is undoubtedly the best thing I’ve ever done.
And while I’ve spent plenty of time talking about the struggles and heartaches of matrescence — primarily because I hope my honesty will provide comfort to other mothers struggling with their own messy experience — I don’t want my own narrative to be so exclusively Debby Downer.
Motherhood been hard. But it’s also been pretty fucking magical and joyful and beautiful and profound. In ways I never would have expected.
20 Unexpected Highs of Matrescence and Motherhood:
1. Toddler snuggles. Blanket snuggles are great. New romantic partner snuggles are intoxicating. Big fluffy dog snuggles are nothing less than perfect. And needn’t we forget the uniquely enchanting snuggle of a milk-drunk baby draped across your chest: bliss. But toddler snuggles? Toddler snuggles are on a different level. The notion that my child would intentionally choose to sit on my denim-clad lap instead of our velvet-covered couch nearly fills my eyes with tears. That the prelude to his bum landing on my legs is, Mommy, my thid on you lap? fills my heart with tears. That I don’t even need to give some pleading, misty-eyed, Meredith-Grey-style pitch — pick me, choose me, love me — for him to settle his perfect little body against mine while he watches forty straight minutes of Spidey while holding onto my index finger makes me feel so enamored and affectionate and connected and content, I actually can’t find the right word to describe it. The smell of his hair under my nose, the warmth of his body melded into mine, the purity of his desire to be so close? It makes me high.
2. Incremental Freedoms. You never know how good it is, until it’s gone. And it never tastes better than when you first get it back. As new parents, you lose a lot of the freedoms you once took for granted, but my god does it feel even more incredible when you start to get them back, drip by drip. Last month, Wesley and I managed to clean out half the garage while the kids happily played inside my car — for an entire hour and a half. Recently, on a Sunday morning, he and I sat in the living room reading, while our kids played together in the family room. Our daughter recently learned how to scooter, so I can include her on my dog walks without having to push a 50-pound stroller around the neighborhood. I took her to a birthday party the other day and actually got to socialize with the other parents since, at four and a half, she felt confident and independent enough to just run off with her pals instead of clinging to my leg for 45 minutes straight. Minor though they may seem, reaching one of these milestones — ones they don’t tell you to look for in all those baby books — feels like earning a new lease on life.
3. Their Voices. Based solely on the sounds that come out of their mouths, one could make the case that both of my children are first cousins of Alvin, Simon, and Theodore Seville. Also known as The Chipmunks. The high-pitched, cartoonish laugh my son unleashes when he’s being knowingly mischievous: hee-hee-hee! The way he says he loves me every night at bedtime in his charming little boy squeak: eyyye…luhhhb…yeeeew! The heart-crushing lisp they’ve both exhibited as small toddlers (one that my daughter has tragically outgrown) and the way it turns Wheels on the Bus into Wheelth on da Buth. The way my daughter still calls her former teacher Vanessa Banessa and refers to gloves as glubs. My husband’s and my ability to recognize not only their tiny mouse chatter, but also their laughter, cries, and shrieks of joy in the middle of a crowd. What an absolutely charming gift.
4. Watching Them Eat Cookies I’ve Baked. I never would have expected such an emotional reaction to something so humdrum yet specific, but every time I bake a batch of Peanut Butter Blossoms or Salted Chocolate Chunk Shortbread Cookies or Molasses Sugar Butter Cookies — and then watch my children eat one — I am overcome with emotion. It’s the two tiny toddler hands gripping one singular cookie. It’s the glint in their eyes as they approach the first bite. It’s the pleasure that spreads across their whole face and body. It’s their commitment to licking up every last crumb so nary a morsel goes to waste. I never knew something I do so regularly would, as a mom, feel so euphoric.
5. Tiny Chicklet Teeth. Both of my children have teeth that are so spaced so far apart, you could park a bus (or perhaps: buth) between each and every one of them. There’s no need for floss, no worry about kale or broccoli embarrassment, and it’s just so innocently cute. I know these tiny white blocks of enamel will fall out of their mouths eventually and become property of the Tooth Fairy in exchange for like $20 a pop plus a Beanie Baby, but for now I’m enjoying the hell out of their teeny-tiny Chicklet-like chompers.
6. Simple Pleasures. As jaded adults, it’s easy to forget the goodness that comes from life’s simple pleasures. Having kids has allowed me to remember. I’m talking about things like playing in the rain. Driving with the windows rolled down and the music turned up. Wearing matching pajamas. Homemade ice cream sundaes. Swelling with pride at an empty bowl, cup, or plate. Running naked through the sprinkler. Running naked around the house before bath. Running naked through the hose after coming in from a day spent at the beach. Watching Saturday morning cartoons. Playing dress up. Clinking wine glasses against sippy cups while shouting Cheers! Birthday parties. Cupcakes. Juice boxes. Bedtime stories. Wearing your favorite dress every single Monday. And Wednesday. Covering your arms and neck in temporary tattoos. Splashing in the bath until the floor resembles a lake. Pulling your sudsy shampoo hair into a point and calling yourself a Cone Head. Snail mail. Living room dance parties with the music on full blast. Howling at the moon. Pillow talk before bed.
7. Daycare Pickup. When I roll up to daycare after not having seen my kids for the previous six or seven hours, the excitement they radiate rivals that of Beatlemania smack in the 1960’s — and I’m their John Lennon. Mommy! my daughter shrieks, as she runs towards the fence to greet me, bouncing up and down like she’s riding an electric pogo stick, foaming at the mouth for me to pick her up and twirl her around. Maaahm-eeey! I then hear from my son, shouting from the toddler playground a good fifty yards away. My mahm! My mahm! he continues, pumping his little fist and stomping his light-up shoes, as I make my way towards him. Then, Pickie up! so I can hoist him onto my hip and give him a big kiss. Nobody has ever been this excited to see me. Damn it feels good.
8. Sharing Our Music. Recognizing that my 4-year-old can identify the voices of Dave Matthews, Taylor Swift, Kacey Musgraves, John Mayer, and The Spice Girls in a matter of seconds makes my heart swell with pride. Watching my 2-year-old son shimmy his shoulders and waggle his tush when one of his favorite songs begins to play makes me smile so big, my cheeks ache. And the moment when my son, daughter, and I all join in during the bridge of Taylor Swift’s “Opalite” — Ooooohhh — and then point at each other before shouting Don’t you sweat it baby! makes my soul absolutely sparkle. I am fully aware that music is the soundtrack of our lives, but there’s something deeply sensational about sharing a love of music with our children, and seeing it appreciate.
9. Loving Their Music — Well, Most of It. Cocomelon’s “Wheels on the Bus” can go to straight hell at this point, but the Gracie’s Corner version of it is still a bop. Don’t sleep on “The Birthday Song” by Gracie either. I will never not sing every word of “La Familia Madrigal,” “We Don’t Talk About Bruno,” or “What Else Can I Do?” from Disney’s Encanto when it plays on our Sonos, YOTO box, or iPhone. And although I may eat my words one day, I’ve yet to tire of “Let it Go,” “Love is an Open Door,” or really any of the original songs from Frozen. Best of all, based on my stellar at-home renditions of every single one of these tunes, I’m 99% positive I will land a leading role when I audition for Disney on Ice. Talk about an open door!
10. Remixing Millennial Music. Yes, I know this is the third one in a row about music, but this is my Top 20 List, and I do what I want. Anyway. Maybe it’s because I’m the daughter of a songwriter, or because I’ve always been a musical being, or because I’ve had to be creative in getting my children to follow my instructions so we can get them to bed on time, but my Bath Time Bangers have become a real mainstay in our household. I’ve turned “Rock Your Body” by Justin Timberlake into a song that encourages getting clean:
Don’t be so quick to walk away,
Bathe with me.
I wanna wash your body — please stay.
Bathe with me.
You don’t have to admit you just wanna play.
Bathe with me.
Just lemme wash you *uh* til the break of day.
I can’t count the number of times Eminem’s “The Real Slim Shady” has inspired my daughter to stand up in the bath so I can scrub her lower half:
Now will the real Tu-Toullah please stand up?
Now will the real Tu-Toullah please stand up?
My name’s Toullah, yes I’m the real Toullah,
All you other Toullah-Toullah’s are just not as cool-uh,
So won’t the real Toullah-Toullah please stand up?
And I have to give a shout to my fellow musical millennial gemini, Emmy Singer (she/her) for recently giving me the spark of inspiration to include Usher’s “Love in this Club,” in our rotation, which is now the official hype song for getting both kids naked. Plus, my daughter absolutely nails every single hey:
I wanna get scrubbed in this tub
*hey*
In this tub
*hey*
In this tub
11. Appreciation for my Body. For as long as I can remember, I’ve judged my body. Wished she were smaller here, bigger there, smoother, less porous, less frizzy, less imperfect. Pregnancy and birth changed that. After watching my belly expand and contract through two pregnancies, feeling my babies swim around inside my uterus, enduring the excruciating expansion of my cervix and the stretching and tearing of my vagina, feeling every ounce of those intense contractions, and bearing witness to my own badass mothafucken strength as I pushed both of my children from the depths of my nether region and into the world, I feel more powerful, and capable, and proud of her than ever before. I grew a PERSON. I gave BIRTH. My body created MILK to sustain LIFE. What imperfections?? She’s a god damn baddie.
12. Their Friendships. Seeing the way my daughter lights up when she gets together with friends for a playdate; hearing her talk about the relationships she’s cultivating at daycare; listening to her mention friends who have been in her life since the day she was born — some who have moved away, and some who remain close — and refer to them as her family or her besties just makes my heart inflate with pride, affection, and tenderness. Sure, I always knew my children would make and have friends, but the joy I feel in watching them develop and grow is something I hadn’t before considered.
13. Bluey. If you’ve ever watched the cartoon about a family of Australian blue heelers, you know. Although I’ve never watched the show without my children, it ain’t outside the realm of possibility.
14. Playing with Magnatiles. The satisfying smack they make when they click together. The stained glass glow they create when the light shines through a masterpiece. The way my kids and I can spend an hour building castles, and rocket ships, and homes for their Spidey and Ghosty action figures, and never get bored. It just might be the Best. Toy. Ever.
15. Drying Up. I can say with 100% certainty that the hormonal changes I’ve experienced as a result of my two pregnancies are the reason my armpits no longer sweat profusely in my regular, day-to-day life. I spent 20 solid years as a Sweatty Betty — sporting perspiring pits no matter the climate or condition — but now, as a woman of 35 and a mother of two, I am finally able to avoid the humiliation of persistent perspiration. Whether it’s sunny and 75 or cloudy and fifteen below, I’m riding high and dry. Hallelujah!
16. Bedtime Stories. When I was a kid, I regularly begged my parents to tell me stories at bedtime. Now that she’s four, my daughter is doing the same to me. I’ve told her the big ones: about how her dad and I met; the day we got married; the day we went to pick up our beloved dog Birdie; and the days she and her brother were born (can you guess which story is her favorite?). I’ve also told her smaller ones: when I lost my first tooth in kindergarten; when my childhood dog Virginia pooped under the dinner table while company was over; when Auntie Esbee and I went trick-or-treating in the middle of July; and when, at age three, I called my mom a “Big Ol’ Rat” for not letting me go to Kate’s house. It’s beautiful to recognize how these once insignificant tales now weave the fabric of our little family’s history, filling my children up with rich details that enliven their comprehension of who we are.
17. Writing Again. Although I’ve fancied myself a writer for a while now — I did launch a food blog in 2011 when I studied abroad in Barcelona and managed to amass a following of like, thirty-four readers after all — I haven’t’ always felt like I had much to say. As a mom however, I can’t shut the fuck up. Not just about how hard matrescence and motherhood are, but also about how transformative they have the power to be. Being able to channel my thoughts and emotions into writing that I hope makes other women feel less alone has been not only a haven, but a feeling of coming home.
18. Our Family’s “Tiny Culture.” Practicing puffer nose in the mirror and dissolving into fits of giggles. Teaching her comebacks for when she has food on her face: I know, I’m saving it for later! Hearing either of my kids exclaim, Mama, I ladies and gentlemen’ed! when they’ve cleaned their bowl or plate. The way my son thrums his fingertips on my hip bones and says pickie up! at least twelve times per day. Cheering and throwing a dance party when he poops on the potty. Giving out marbles for being a good listener. My husband negotiating “daddy deals” to get the kids to eat their vegetables. Our tradition of listening to the entire “Life of a Showgirl” album every morning while eating breakfast and getting ready for school. The way I’ve gotten really good at doing impressions of Doc Ock from Spidey. Our tried and true Bath Time Ballads (See No. 10). The way nobody is safe from being called out for a loud tootie. How my daughter calls croutons “porkchops,” pine nuts “pinecones,” gnocchi “karaoke,”— and how we’ve all adopted these terms as truth. These, and many others, are the tiny little silly-isms that make life in our house unique; the things I hope we’ll all remember forever.
19. Becoming an Armchair Pediatrician. Throughout the course of my adult life, I’ve occasionally fantasized about becoming some sort of medical professional: a doctor or nurse but probably not a surgeon. What I didn’t realize was, in becoming a mother and regularly navigating life with sick kids, my pediatric medical knowledge would soon rival that of a first-year resident. Ish. Whereas I was once terrified of any fever, cough, or wheeze, these days I’m a grizzled pro. I can diagnose pink eye with a cursory glance, have intimate experience with all skin rashes ranging from eczema to Hand Foot Mouth, and I barely even blink when faced with a thermometer that reads 103. Projectile vomit across the rug? No prob. Got sniffles, eye goop, loss of appetite, and balance issues? I’d call that an ear infection. Forget Dr. Google — Dr. Mom Dog is ON THE CASE.
20. Growth. I’m constantly aghast at my babies’ growth: their increased vocabulary, their improved physicality, the obvious change when I scroll back through photos on my phone. MY growth is something I didn’t quite expect. Which is funny since, as I said to a friend recently, I’m a growth junkie. I love learning about myself and working to improve myself, and I’m obsessed with the fact that I’ll never consider myself done — grown. Honestly, I still occasionally zoom out of my life and cannot believe I’m 35 years old, married, have two children, a dog, and just launched my second business. I still feel 15! But motherhood has pushed me to grow more than I could’ve ever imagined — and I’m only five years in. I love being able to look back and reflect on how far I’ve come, and I get giddy with excitement thinking about the possibilities that lay out there waiting for me. Let’s fucken grow!
Have you experienced any unexpected highs throughout motherhood that I didn’t mention?
Drop a comment to tell me everything. At this phase of motherhood, I know I’ve only scratched the surface — and frankly, this wasn’t an exhaustive list (although I am fully aware that, clocking in at 20 items long, it might have been exhausting. Thank you for reading).
Xox Mom Dog
You Might Also Like…
Friendly Reminder
Liked what you read? Want to hear more from Mom Dog? Use the button below to subscribe. Whether you’re free or paid, every one of you inspires me to keep writing and keep supporting moms.
Either way, thanks for being here <3
Toddler snuggles >> teeing no oxytocin like it
BEST POST EVER, Maddie!!! It’s been over 3 decades since mine were this age, and your piece brought it all right back! Xoxo