@entermothering

So I opened a Twitter account. If you care to follow me you can find me at @entermothering. Why did I do this? Not sure really. After a chat with a friend this morning I felt compelled to do it. She called to tell me that I “hit the nail on the head” with my last post and for some reason I made the logical leap from saying “thank you” to opening a Twitter account.

So I have been asked,  why ‘entermothering?’ When I first started my blog I was under pressure for a name and for whatever reason Joan Rivers’ book, Enter Laughing popped into my mind. I found it slightly fitting since she was the first woman to host the Tonight Show…somewhat of a trailblazer. I wouldn’t think of her today as an icon in the woman’s movement, but she was a first nonetheless. My next thought was mothering, ergo, enter mothering! It’s not motherhood or becoming a mother because becoming a mother and mothering are completely different animals. A whole different game, brother.

Becoming a mother is relatively easy. It’s fluids, cells, and two people who care enough to be in the same room, naked. It’s a man starting to wear boxer shorts and a woman tracking her eggs like a sniper and then having mad rabbit sex for two days during the “peak window” and hoping you hit the jackpot. It’s acknowledging that you will have sex like you did before you were married and knowing that once the baby is born it will never happen again. Until you start trying for number two. Unless, of course you are like me and you have one night of unprotected make-up sex and you end up pregnant. Like I said, becoming a mother is easy.

Mothering on the other hand is a complex series of multi-tasked events that are thoughtful, deliberate, and often a sheer attempt to keep everyone alive. Mothering is not for the faint hearted. Mothering is rocking your baby boy to sleep and holding him for twenty extra minutes just because he feels so good in your arms. And you love to smell his hair. Mothering is letting your four-year-old climb in bed with you past her bedtime while your husband is up late working and you field a series of questions about numbers, animal fur, the healing properties of skin, and facial hair. Mothering is consoling that same little girl after a friend tells her she doesn’t like her outfit. Reassuring that child that what is important is that she likes her clothes and not what anyone else thinks. Mothering is building confidence. Mothering is advocating for your child to pick from the boy box a the dentist instead of the girl one because everyone knows Cars and Thomas the Train are waaayyyy cooler than princesses and fairies. Mothering is loving enough to say no. Mothering is not giving a second’s though at stiff-arming the four-year-old about to shove my kid while standing at the sink. Hey, his mother would probably do the same thing. Mothering is remembering to bring the sprinkles. Mothering is masking fresh bananas instead of serving jarred. Mothering is loving completely and fully without hesitation.

So while we have physically become mothers, it’s our mothering that develops, grows, and changes as the needs of our children change. Our mothering becomes who we are as people, as mothers. I may have become a mother for the first time four years ago and again seven months ago but it is over time, experience, wisdom, and love that I have entered into mothering.

Happy Mothering,

Melanie

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