Well friends, everyone burns their first pancake and I have been burning mine since 2014. My first son has become the guinea pig in my experiment called “Motherhood.”
This phrase has become my badge of honor. I wear it with pride knowing I have failed many times in motherhood to have earned it.
There have been great days where my mothering game was on point. And I have had failures that are still cringe worthy. Either way, I am learning to just keep flipping.
Looking back I can recall ways that I have burnt my first pancake. Well, who am I kidding, each of my 3 boys have been a bit singed by me.
- I tried potty training my strong-willed son at the early age of 21 months. I find this laughable now but it was a long and messy road.
- I thought I could get my 3 week old baby on a sleep schedule. (yep, three weeks, not three months).
- Multiple times on the playground I had to answer the dreaded question, “Is this your son?” Then proceed to guide my child through a genuine sounding apology before strapping him into his car seat and screeching out of the parking lot out of sheer embarrassment.
- I probably spent $1,000 at a chiropractor trying to get my breech baby to flip so I could have my dream delivery experience instead of a scheduled C-section. And this was after my doctor, who had delivered hundreds of babies before mine, advised me that 85% of babies breech at 34 weeks never flip.
- I let my 9 month old scream bloody murder in our tent, at a campground, at 1:00 a.m. because I read that he needed to, “Learn to sleep in his pack n play.”
- When I found out that my 7 month old had dropped to the 1st percentile in weight, clearly because I just couldn’t produce enough breast milk, I made my husband go to the store to buy formula because I couldn’t deal with the guilt of not being able to nourish my own child.
- I practiced baby-led weaning hoping that my son would grow up to be a healthy and adventurous eater. Well, at age 7 his go-to foods are Goldfish crackers, Dinonuggets and frozen pizza.
- I thought he was ready for sports at age 2. We put him in a parent-and-me class and proceeded to witness an endless flow of tears and him running everywhere but where the class was being held. I learned that age 2 is way too young for organized sports
Well, there you have it. I have scorched, singed and charred my first born son but the good news is, he is alive, healthy and happy despite everything I have done to him.
As a mom, when you feel like you are doing everything wrong, and your child will never recover from the trauma you are inflicting on him/her, remember that Everyone Burns Their First Pancake, so just keep flipping!
