Fine! Here! Now Please Be Quiet!


I don’t say these words very often, but they are in my head many times a day while  I’m trying to meet, reason with or quell the demands of my two boys. Every  demand forces me to weigh the effort it will take for me to meet said demand against the long-term consequence of their getting their way on this particular issue  paralleled with how much energy I have and am willing to spend on the inevitable  fit a 3-year-old throws upon being told “no.” More often than I care to admit these  “discussions” end with some version of “fine! here! now please be quiet!”

Please don’t misunderstand. I love my boys. I have happily chosen to stay home and raise them. But holy moly for the love of the goddess and mother earth and  Eleanor Roosevelt; they NEVER stop! Never stop talking, needing, begging,  questioning or arguing. Never. Not ever. The other day I sent my 3-year-old  outside to play in his sand box. When I went to check on him he was having a  heated argument with, what I assumed to be, an imaginary friend.

Of all the things I thought would be hard for me as a mom, this wasn’t even on the list. But then again, very little about motherhood has been what I expected. As you may know, parenthood is something that you just can’t fully understand until you are in the thick of it. But I thought I had a better idea than most because I had  spent so much of my life caring for other people’s children. This work brought me  great joy and it was often the one area of my life where I felt completely competent and at peace. What I couldn’t predict about parenting is how my sweet little babies seem to have been born with little flashlights designed to shine brightly on the few things my therapist and I did not uncover in our 3 years of weekly visits. As a mom I am forever second guessing myself and I don’t think I’m the only one.  But why?

I have a theory…

After a baby is born you still have to push out the placenta. I’m fairly certain that while your uterus is growing a baby the placenta is growing a whole lot of maternal guilt. Until I had my own, I was never bothered by babies crying and believed that it was natural for one to fuss a bit before drifting off to sleep.  But when I sat listening to my first son cry instead of falling asleep it felt like my uterus would sprout arms legs and go rock that kid to sleep if I didn’t do it myself! It physically hurt to listen to him cry.

I’ve heard that many people save the placenta and ingest it as either a soup (oyster crackers anyone?) or in a dried powder form put into capsules. It is supposed to help replenish some of the nutrients lost during labor and delivery, I think. But here’s my theory: I think we need to eat that placenta not for the vitamins and minerals, but to show our uterus just who is in charge!  Yes motherhood is beautiful and natural and amazing.  But, just like pregnancy, it’s also strange and uncomfortable, and sometimes when you look in the mirror you don’t quite recognize yourself.

© Jennifer Sparklebritches and Poop In My Hair, 2011. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Poop In My Hair with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.


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2 responses to “Fine! Here! Now Please Be Quiet!

  1. Merrill

    so brilliant…mine is in the freezer. “Honey, guess what we are having for dinner tonight? Uterus with angel hair and pesto sauce!!”

  2. Brianna W

    hahaha! I’m gonna pretend that I never read this post and think that when I do have kids I’ll STILL be able to listen to them cry themselves to sleep…at least for a few minutes.

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