Do You Know Where Your BGPs Are?

Early Motherhood is physically exhausting. The middle of the night feedings, sea of diapers and wipes for the first couple of years, hunts for the binky in the middle of the night, baby earaches and fevers, stretchmarks that run like the London underground, dark circles on your puffy eyes, on-the-spot meals, endless mounds of chicken nuggets because it's the only thing besides mac-n-cheese, cheerios and fruit snacks, that your toddlers will eat without a fuss. And let's face it, somedays that's all you can hope for...and this is all before they [the kids] learn to talk. back.

This metamorphesis caused me to dig around and find my Big Girl Panties. When my special needs son was born, I had to wear my BGPs all the time. I needed them. I couldn't pout when things didn't go my way. Well, I could and I did occassinally, but I had no audience. I had to be the Mommy even when I didn't want to be. No, I had to put on my BGP's and suck it up. They were tight and foreign.

Around 4-5 years old, they[the little curtain-climbers] start to become real human beings. With the limited ability to reason...meaning you can actually go to the bathroom without a siren outside of the door. It starts to get good.
You know that day at the grocery store when you're walking down the Baby Aisle, and you KNOW it's the last time you'll ever have to buy diapers?? You fantasize about how you'll spend the money you'll be saving. It is as good as winning the lottery. Ahhhh no more diapers. No more wipes. You pass the formula...the babyfood...and a tinge of nostalgia washes over you, but stays only for 2.3 seconds and you are back to the glorious reality that you are out of the trenches of all things "Baby" and if you could, you'd get on the loudspeaker in Alberstons and tell the entire store full of Parents that you SURVIVED!

"Attention Albertson's Shoppers...I just wanted to say that after 7 children, which equates to approximately 21 years of babyhood, I am OFFICIALLY finished shopping the Baby Aisle. That is all. Oh, clean-up on aisle 4, Bob."

My BGP's had helped me survive the Baby Years. Sure they were covered in a bit of baby poop, strained squash and they smelled of baby wipes--a smell that triggers a gag reflex to this day--but my BGP's held strong. They gave me confidence. NO longer did I shrink in the face of whiny teethers, diaper blow-outs, and cold dinners. I took it all in stride.

For the next few years, the Building Years, you become a taxi driver...carpools, music lessons, sports training, PTA, scouts, science projects of the Eiffel Tower made out of sugar cubes and gumdrops, birthday parties that rival Vegas shows...those years zoom by compared to the "baby years"....you're busy, you're looking better, (I looked my BEST in my late 20's and 30's because I honestly felt better. just sayin'.) and your tired but you're not exhausted.
Whereas in the Baby Years, I was "chief cook and bottle washer", the next few years I was more of a Search and Rescue Patrolwoman. An Expert at Searching for kids, shoes, homework, etc...yes, my uterus was a tracking device!-- and Rescuing bumps, bruises, owies, hurt feelings, lost text books, latch-key friends, and the like.
Busy years, dedicated to the building up of little minds and characters.

My BGP's lost some elastic those years. I relaxed. I laughed more. Started to sort things out about the kind of mother I wanted to be to my kids & learned to say "Yes" more often and "No" when needed.

Then come the Ungrateful Years. Come on. You know what those are...ever hear yourself echo the sentiments you heard ringing in your own ears, "The World doesn't revolve around you." "Look at me when I'm talking to you." "When I was your Age....".
Luckily for me, I'm a quick learner. By the time #4 (ok not so quick) came into those years, I was seasoned like a ironcast griddle. I didn't let all of her drama become my drama. I could pull back and let her figure things out without getting all in a knot thinking I had to "fix" it for her.
That was not the case with her older siblings. I wanted to fight their battles for them. And in the end, it was not necessary or appreciated. I had to grow up and let them learn their lessons--sometimes their processes mimicked a carwreck, but in the end, they did learn how to solve problems and live with the consequences.

And just when you think you've raised a child of darkness, something clicks in their noggins and a REAL person begins to emerge. And then you mentally thank yourself for not taking them down to the Baby Races in Mexico at 3,

selling them to the circus when they were 8,

or sending them to boot camp on Jerry Springer at 14,

or that you didn't shave them bald in their sleep at 17.

...Or packing the car and heading for the horizon yourself.
"Self: Thank you for not

losing your mind in the sea of laundry

or the tunnel of tattletales."

My BGP's saved my teenagers' lives. While they wanted to wear less clothing, let their drawers drop to their knees, dress like they're homeless, stay out too late, get up too late, skip homework, or let their mouths run whilst their brains were elsewhere, my BGP's allowed me, nay, encouraged me to stand up to them.

Let them know I was still in charge and had gumph! left in me to see this mission to the end, even when I wasn't sure just how much gumph! I had left. To trust in my wisdom. To know when to get on my knees.

To say sorry when I was wrong. To admit I don't know everything, but I know enough.

To enjoy learning from them too.


Motherhood is not for wimps. There's a reason Mothers have their own day...and on that day more flowers and cards are bought than any other holiday besides Christmas. Mothers are compared to Angels in literature. Is it any wonder? As a Mother who has been through the trenches, I say, hear! hear! We deserve every acclamation afforded us!

So my BGPs are worn-in. They're comfortable, they're always in my size, no matter what the numbers on the scale say. Recently, I had to pull them out again for my own sanity--to suck up the challenges thatI was facing.

And now I'm "thisclose" to becoming a Granma!!-- this is where the fruits of my labor
begin to really show themselves.
Just as Dani is at the age where she thinks she knows everything, Heavenly Father has blessed her to become a Mother. She doesn't even know what she doesn't know. If any of you are fans of that show The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Universe, there's a line "That's a man who knows where his towel is." --is a classic and if you've seen the movie, you know what the meaning is...so here I am proclaiming:


Do You Know Where Your Big Girl Panties Are?