Motherhood has had its own playlist for me. Looking back, I have found a list of songs that have become the soundtrack for my journey as a mom. 

***

Let Her Go by Passenger

“Well, you only need the light when it’s burning low
Only miss the sun when it starts to snow
Only know you love her when you let her go.”

I still get the same feelings when I hear Let Her Go. It starts and the emotions come flooding back; lonely, confused, uncertain and exhausted, oh so exhausted. Even eight years later, just the first few lines whisk me back to those early days of motherhood. 

It was a song I played over and over when my oldest son was only a few weeks old. We spent hours alone together during my maternity leave, usually in the nursery room that my husband and I had carefully painted and decorated during the nine months I was pregnant. The walls were a color called “Gentleman’s Blue” and it had touches of wood and metal. I felt prepared before my son’s arrival, but then he entered my life, and our awkward dance began. 

I listened to this song on repeat in those first few weeks of motherhood. Maybe I just needed to fill the lonely void in our house when we were alone and my baby wasn’t crying or it could have been that I wanted a way to somehow digest the emotions I was feeling. Now, looking back at that song, I’ve noticed that it is slow and melancholy. It mimicked the flow of my days and the feelings that surrounded being a new mom. 

***

“You’ve Got A Friend In Me” by Randy Newman

“You’ve got a friend in me
You got troubles, I’ve got ’em too
There isn’t anything I wouldn’t do for you
We stick together and see it through
‘Cause you’ve got a friend in me”

Luckily for me, I outgrew that first song and found a new one. When my son turned two, we moved to a house that had a large space of wooden floor between our living room and dining room. To kill time during those dreaded late afternoon hours before dinner, I’d put on “You’ve Got a Friend in Me” and my son would reach up his little arms and say, “Mama, hold you.” We’d spin in circles, his chick fuzz hair blowing in the air. Each spin would make me dizzy but he’d use his tiny fingers to sign, “More, more,” and again we’d twirl. 

His giggles filled the afternoons and got us to dinner, then bath, and then finally bedtime. We listened to this song because we both needed to move. He needed to burn the last bit of energy in his always moving body and I needed to fill my long days with entertainment and stimulus, because being a mom to a toddler sometimes felt excruciatingly lonely. 

This new stage of motherhood did have a quicker beat unlike those earlier days. I felt more comfortable with my son. We were learning how to find our own rhythm and create movement that didn’t exist before. Our daily walks and park meetups replaced the loneliness that surrounded those newborn days tucked away in the nursery. 

***

“Swish, Swish” by Katie Perry

“Swish, Swish
Another one in the basket
Can’t touch this”

My playlist continued to evolve after my son started elementary school. He taught me a new “cool” dance move that all the kids in his class were doing. He would put on the trendy song from a list I titled, “Ronin’s Music.” It was filled with songs that he loved and I tolerated.  No longer could I put on my own music, but instead, he would grab my phone and play DJ.  We’d stand on the same dance floor we once twirled together on, but this time he tried to instruct me on how to move my straight arms and hips in a way that would floss them. Somehow, my mom body just couldn’t find that rhythm. 

We learned to move together in a funny mother/son harmony though. The beats at this stage of motherhood brought me a new sense of confidence and freedom and I didn’t feel quite as awkward about making a fool of myself or correcting the many mistakes I made.

***

Eye of the Tiger by Survivor

“It’s the eye of the tiger
It’s the thrill of the fight
Rising up to the challenge of our rival
And the last known survivor
Stalks his prey in the night
And he’s watching us all with the eye of the tiger”

Fast forward to today and I no longer find myself dancing in our house, but rather, in the car, chauffeuring my son to and from baseball practice and games. We listen to the Eye of the Tiger on repeat to get him pumped up to play. With the song stuck in my head all day, I dance on the bleachers, the loudest mom at the game, beaming ear to ear as my son, the baby I once cradled in my arms, rockets the baseball to the outfield and sprints around the bases. 

We may not be holding onto each other spinning around in our living room anymore, but we still move to the beat of the same song. I am feeling totally different emotions these days, ones of sheer joy and an overwhelming sense of pride for the human that I created. My cheers and waving catch his attention but he rolls his eyes at me in embarrassment.  I am proud though as my boy is spreading his wings and succeeding on his own turf. 

****

Our playlist is going to continue to change. On the day he gets married, we will put on a song and I will dance with my boy again before sending him off to his wife. His soft pudgy fingers will be replaced with the hands of a man.

I wonder how I will feel at the moment when I realize my job is almost done and our playlist is ending. Will I feel scared and alone like I did when he was a newborn? Will I feel exhausted yet playful like those toddler years? Maybe goofy and carefree like when he was in elementary school?  Or will I feel an overwhelming sense of pride like I did when he was on the ball field? I think I will only truly know when that day arrives, but no matter my feelings, to relive my journey, all I will need to do is play a song off my motherhood playlist.

This post is part of a blog hop with Exhale—an online community of women pursuing creativity alongside motherhood, led by the writing team behind Coffee + Crumbs. Click here to view the next post in the series “Lyrical”. 

The post My Motherhood Playlist appeared first on Burnt Pancakes.

Dear Future Mama,

Motherhood is wonderful. Yes, that is true, but I do want to let you in on a few little truths that no one warned me about before I became a mom. Please don’t let these scare you, just tuck them away and pull them out as needed.

Truth #1: You and your baby will BOTH leave the hospital in diapers. You will be wearing what I liked to call “fishnet granny panties.” Don’t worry though, you will soon get your sexy back, I promise!

Truth #2: You are going to gain a new appreciation for dairy cows. Be prepared to leak milk at the most inconvenient times. Count on it happening when you are in public. 

Truth #3: Sucking boogers out of another human’s nose is actually going to be very satisfying! I know it sounds gross now, but just you wait!

Truth #4: Getting four hours of sleep is actually going to feel wonderful. It might not sound like a lot right now, but in those early newborn days, count this as a win.

Truth #5: The first few times you try to have sex after delivering your baby will probably feel like the first time all over again. Having a baby attached to your body all day will make getting in the mood next to impossible but trust me, this won’t last forever (insert wink emogi).

Truth #6: Potty training is messy! If the book says it will take three days, toss that one out the window. There will be accidents, and probably lots of them, but your child will not go off to college in diapers, so give yourself grace.

Truth #7: Forget all those cute baby clothes because your baby will either spit-up or have a blowout the minute you put them on. And while we are talking baby clothes, get the ones without snaps. Zippers will be your best friends at 1:00 am. 

Truth #8: For the next 18 years, you won’t be able to have nice things. DON’T buy the white couch!!! No matter how much you try, your kids will draw on, break or somehow manage to leave teeth marks on every nice piece of furniture you own.

Truth #9: These questions will make their way into your Google search; “Is my baby’s head too big?” “Is my baby’s head too small?” “Is my baby gaining enough weight?” “Did my baby gain too much weight?” “Why isn’t my child speaking?” “Is my child speaking too much?”  Let me save you the search…your child is just fine!

Truth #10: Despite all of these ugly truths, you are going to learn to love this human more than life itself. You will get peed on, shed countless tears, feel so tired it hurts, and your patience will be tested to levels you can’t even begin to fathom, but all that will fade away when your baby first smiles at you or when your toddler runs up and gives you a hug. Don’t give up mama, because the real truth is, your best is more than enough!

Love,
Katie (mama of three)

What advice would you give future mama self? Leave me a comment with some words to her.

The post Dear Future Mama, appeared first on Burnt Pancakes.

***

My husband and I talked about baby names even before we were married. Sitting together, dreaming of our future, we couldn’t help but imagine who our kids would be. We’d throw around possible names. Some were totally ridiculous, others very traditional, but it became a game to try to piece together our future family. 

The summer before I got pregnant, we were sitting outside having a picnic with some friends when they started telling us about a family they knew. The husband went on to list the names of their boys and when he said “Ronin” my husband and I turned to each other with a look that meant, “Oh, I like that name. Make a mental note to add it to our list.” 

Neither of us said anything until we were in the car.  My husband went on to describe to me what a Japanese Ronin was. It referred to a type of samurai, one that paved his own path. In his eyes, it sounded “bad-ass.”  In my mind, I wondered if a little baby could hold such a big name but I was intrigued. 

The following year, we found out we were pregnant with a boy. The minute I heard the gender, I felt an overwhelming sense of duty to raise a boy that would be strong and confident yet a loyal gentleman. I don’t know if any other mothers experience this, but at that moment, I felt a need to fulfill a very important job. I was committed to raising a boy that could one day make the world better. 

Knowing the gender meant that we could scrap all the girl names we had generated and start seriously looking for the one for our future son. We had a few listed that made it past our double veto system. While driving to work one morning, mulling over the names in my head, I started tearing up realizing that the name Ronin contained the first three letters of my dad’s name. We had already discussed naming our son after one of our dads, but let’s face it, my grandma’s taste in names was quite different than mine and Ronald was instantly scratched. But, in choosing the name Ronin, we could still honor my dad.

So that was it, we were going to name our baby Ronin, our little masterless samurai. We didn’t share the name with anyone, keeping it our little secret until he was born. My friend once warned me, “Be careful what you name a baby, because your child will grow up to become that.” To me, that always sounded so ridiculous. There was no way that I could pick a name that would then come to embody another person…right? 

Well, let me tell you about my son. Before he was born we found out he was breech. Despite everything I did (and I tried it all from multiple trips to the chiropractor, laying upside down on pillows and talking to my unborn baby willing him to turn around) he remained breech until my scheduled C-section. He decided he wasn’t going to follow the typical path and give me the birth that was expected. 

After he was born, I wondered if this big name suited my little guy. His sweet, baby blue eyes and ginger colored hair didn’t seem to look like what I thought a Ronin should be. Months went by though and he developed his unique look and an even more unique personality. 

I was the mom running around, chasing my baby at music class. Never wanting to sit down and follow along, he became the little rebel in the group of quiet lap sitters. At the park I was constantly running after him.  He would dart across the field, fearless, never looking back to see where I was. He had a sense of independence that scared me as his mother. I felt like if I didn’t chase him, he’d never stop running. 

He was incredibly cooridnated too. I like to say that he started running before he started walking. He was always moving, never wanting to be still. His need to be physical was not something we taught him. One day, when he was not quite one yet, I was picking him up from daycare and the aid asked me if he had an older brother or cousin. Curious, I said, “No, why?” She went on to explain that he loved to wrestle and tackle some of the older boys and thought he was possibly exposed to that at home. Despite everything I did to teach him to be gentle, that just wasn’t him. His favorite game was to play “push” on the couch. 

From the minute he started walking, his knees were always bruised and scraped up. He had a way of taking some of the biggest falls but would get up and say, “I’m ok,” and continue to play. My mom friends at the park would look at me and ask how he was not hurt and honestly I don’t know. He should have come up to me crying, needing a kiss on his boo boo, but he would just run off like it was nothing. Maybe it was because he was just determined to keep playing and stopping because he was hurt would just get in the way of that. To this day, he doesn’t have one pair of jeans without holes in the knees.

I often think about my friend’s words and wonder if in choosing his name, I created this boy. I looked at the other mom at the library story time, sitting nicely with their toddlers in their lap, singing The Wheels on the Bus, and wondered how I ended up with the one crawling under the librarian’s easel. Did I create this? Could I really have done this to myself?

Slowly, I am seeing that his independent nature might not be a curse but rather a blessing. My little warrior started preschool at the age of three and while all the other kids clung to their mother’s legs, afraid to let go, mine bolted through the doors determined to explore every inch of the play yard. Fearlessly independent is how the teachers described him. I have started to get a glimpse of what a Ronin could be for this world. Although he was a handful as a toddler and in early childhood, there are moments when I realize his stubbornness and independence could actually turn into his greatest asset in the end. 

Naming a child is tough. You are essentially choosing something that will be their identity for their entire life. So the question is, does a name define who a person is to become? Maybe, in choosing my son’s name, we actually wanted him to be a fearless warrior willing to follow his own path. I knew I had a duty to bring a man into the world who would fight for what is right. Our world needs  men like that. At the age of seven, I think I’ve only seen a glimpse of the Ronin that my son will become.

This post is part of a blog hop with Exhale—an online community of women pursuing creativity alongside motherhood, led by the writing team behind Coffee + Crumbs. Click HERE to view the next post in the series “A Name”

The post What’s in a Name? appeared first on Burnt Pancakes.

I couldn’t help myself though. They were all so unique and different. Some were striped, others smooth and orange, and some even had strange bumps all over them. Bumps that my toddler tried to pick off in the store before we bought them.

How could I say no to one when I said yes to another? I stared at these pumpkins and saw my three boys. Like the pumpkins, they are all being raised in the same patch, but could not be more different from each other.

My independent first born led me to believe that sending a child off to preschool was a piece of cake, that is until my emotionally attached middle child threw me a curve ball. This mild mannered, rule following, middle child though, showed me that potty training did not have to be a 6 month long disaster like it was with his older brother. And the baby of the family? Who knows what unique tricks he’s got up his sleeve.

All I know is that their differences have kept me on my toes as a mom and have given me some of life’s greatest joys.

So what thought did I have while I stared at my overflowing shopping cart? I realized in that moment that variety truly is the “pumpkin” spice of life!

The post Variety is the Pumpkin Spice of Life appeared first on Burnt Pancakes.

It meant
Morning sickness again
Seeing that number on the scale again
And losing my body again

It meant
Sore muscles from baby rocking again
Spit up on my clothes again
And diaper changes all day long again

It meant
A frustrating sleep schedule again
The witching hour chiming again
And unexplainable crying again

It meant
Building a frozen milk stash again
Leaving my baby to go to work again
And pumping in a closet again

It meant
A feeling of loneliness again
Losing my identity again
And rediscovering my marriage again

I was faced with a fear of the known
But it meant loving another child
So I chose it all over again

*****

Maybe this is the true gift of motherhood; when we are faced with some of our biggest fears, we choose them anyway because of the love we know they will hold.

*****

This post is part of a blog hop with Exhale —an online community of women pursuing creativity alongside motherhood, led by the writing team behind Coffee + Crumbs. Click here to view the next post in the series “Unmaking Fears”.

The post The Fear of the Known appeared first on Burnt Pancakes.