...my heart shattered

One thing that has been really amazing about our move back home is that Nick is attending my old elementary school. It's been a total trip for both us.
For me, seeing him walk the same halls and grow in the same place I spent 6 years is like a daily walk through Bizarro-world. Super cool, but really surreal.
For his part, he loves telling me about things they did that day or things that happened, and then asking if I did the same thing when I was there. "Mommy, did you have assemblies in the auditorium when you were here?", "Did you have to color in the morning when you were here?" I love it.
So we were getting in the car yesterday afternoon and he tells me he doesn't want to go to school Thursday. Of course I asked why, and his response was "because we have lockdown drill Thursday and I don't want to do it." After comparing it to a fire drill and explaining the importance of being prepared for an emergency, even if it never happens, I thought the conversation was done. He had moved on to talking about Star Wars already.
Then about 5 minutes down the road, he drops this little nugget on me. "Mom, during lockdown, we all have to go into the bathroom and be super quiet. We can't make any noise, because if we do the bad guy will find us and shoot the door down."
My heart shattered.
"Why do you say that buddy?" (While trying not to sound like my heart had just broken into a million tiny pieces all over my crumb covered floorboard)
"That's what our teacher said." But here's why he really got me...

"Mommy, did you have lockdown when you were here?"

Crickets.
I couldn't answer.
What do I say?
No baby. We didn't. We didn't need them because people didn't go into schools and randomly, senselessly take the lives of innocent precious babes.
We didn't need them, baby, because your elementary school and my elementary school are two very different worlds despite being the same building.
I wanted to say those things. I almost did. But I was completely heartbroken over the loss of his innocence. I understand and appreciate the necessity of the lockdown drill, and even the teacher who told the class why it was so important they be quiet. God forbid, were the worst to ever happen, I want my boy to know exactly what to do and how to be safe.
But my heart hurts at the reality of it all. I'm saddened THAT it's a necessity, but mostly I'm saddened by the fact that my 6 year old knows of these horrors now.
No baby, we didn't have lockdown. Our worries were of coloring and recess and lunchboxes. No thoughts of bad guys. No cares for lockdown drills.
Hug your babes. Laugh with them. Play with them. BE with them. They are babes for such a short time before the real world comes crashing in on then (and you).

I didn't want kids

It's true, I didn't. But life has a way of turning the thing you never wanted into the thing you can't live without. But in the spirit of full disclosure, I confess there was a time in my life that I didn't want kids. Before I got married, I was pretty convinced kids weren't in my future. But now I can't even remember life without them. And I don't want to. Before having kids, there were lots of things that I thought motherhood was. And wasn't. And most of them were wrong. Here's what I've learned motherhood IS -

Motherhood really IS carrying your heart outside your body.
Motherhood is also LOSING your body. At least for a time. For a period, however brief or long, your body does not belong to you. (And you may never truly get it back)
Motherhood is sleeplessness.
Motherhood is falling asleep at any moment because you're so tired, you just don't care that you're sitting in line at the DMV. You're not in motion and dammit, that's all you need to be able to catch a few zzz's right now.
Motherhood is writing this blog over the shoulders of my preschooler because she won't get out of my lap...
Motherhood is consoling, reprimanding, refereeing, and even snuggling - all while sitting on the toilet.
Motherhood is saying things you never thought ANYONE would ever need to say. ("You can't finish building that Lego creation because the piece you're missing is in your ear.")
Motherhood is wanting NOTHING MORE than time to yourself to "un-mom", but instantly missing them so much it physically hurts as soon as you're away from them.
Motherhood is opening your fridge to see a stormtrooper on the shelf.
Motherhood is experiencing every possible emotion, from giddiness to disappointment, frustration to laughter, pure and complete bliss to borderline-murderous intent...all at the hands of your child.
Motherhood is wondering if EVERYTHING your child does is "normal".
Motherhood is wondering if EVERYTHING you say or do will cause your child some sort of trauma later in life (or not-so-much-later)
Motherhood is thinking about everything you feed your child.
Motherhood is giving up what you want, to give your child what they need.
Motherhood is multiple pee-stops on the side of the highway because they just.can't.hold.it.
Motherhood is sniffing your kids butt in public.
Motherhood is trying to keep your mouth shut and your hands to yourself so they can learn how to do it themselves.
Motherhood is putting yourself last. A lot.
Motherhood is FUN.
Motherhood is forming weird, random, amazing friendships with other moms simply because you're both moms. ("Hey, we have the same job! We should be friends!"....for the record, this would be weirdly inappropriate in any other avenue of life.)
Motherhood is knowing all the words to the Doc McStuffins theme song.
Motherhood is having REALLY personal conversations about your body, your kids body, or other random things with other moms because they totally get it.
Motherhood is knowing your kid is trying to sneak something from the kitchen, simply by the way the floor creaks.
Motherhood is LAUNDRY. Always laundry.
Motherhood is feeling like a terrible person in the moments when you don't like your kid.
Motherhood is thinking your kid is cuter than any other kid. Ever.
Motherhood is comparing poop stories with your friends. And not even thinking twice about it.
Motherhood is having a seriously tight friendship with your coffee maker.
Motherhood is being in a dead sleep, but still hearing your child crying from upstairs and through two closed doors. (and instantly knowing which of your children is crying)
Motherhood is constantly pushing YOURSELF so they see it, and model it.
Motherhood is closing the door to your child's room after a REALLY hard day together, and then immediately feeling guilty for being a "bad parent", and going back in to snuggle before they fall asleep.
Motherhood is being CRAZY EXCITED when your kid does the smallest of things on their own for the first time. (And annoying all your Facebook friends with an absurd amount of posts about it)
Motherhood is an exercise in guilt.
Motherhood is an exercise in pure joy.
Motherhood is navigating the world of giant emotions inside tiny bodies.
Motherhood (of boys) is pee on the toilet seat. And the floor. And the wall. And the toilet tank. And the scented candle sitting on the toilet tank.
Motherhood is being a horse, a swing, a slide, a sandwich, a boat, etc....all with your body. (yes, a sandwich)
Motherhood is amazing.
Motherhood is frustrating.
Motherhood is the hardest job ever. Ever. EVER.
Motherhood is the best job ever. Ever. EVER.


See? Sandwich.