Crazed Band Mom

I never used to understand moms. Most seemed ridiculous, over the top and fanatical. You know the type, the moms that walk around wearing the ugliest pseudo-letterman’s jacket that says “Band Mom” on the back; or the moms that try to reenact what their child said to them earlier in the day (mimicking the child’s voice) for your apparent amusement; and even the moms who you can’t hold a 2 minute conversation without somehow squeezing in an un-newsworthy comment about their kids latest escapade – like breakfast. What was wrong with them? Didn’t they realize how completely uninterested everyone is about whatever ridiculous story or drawing their kids produced? How did they let themselves get this far gone from reality?

My ahh-ha moment? The day my beautiful Asher was born. In a nano-second, his face was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen, the squeaks he’d make were reason to call friends and family, and the daily conversations with everyone included lengthy stories on many hours he slept, or how detailed accounts of how many times (and what) he had spit-up that day. I had gone completely over the edge….but into what; ridiculousness? Nope. This was Motherhood.

Today, my crazy new-mom behavior has somewhat subsided. I no longer call my mom to have discussions on what the consistency of what the contents of his diaper were that morning (ok, sometimes I do, but not as often). But for the most part, I’ve discovered that these somewhat psychotic behaviors are part of this thing they call Motherhood. It amazes me the range of feelings, hopes and mind-set that it encompasses, majority of which I never knew were possible.

There are now so many things I do on a daily basis that would have made me cringe 5-10 years ago: wiping snot off my son’s face with my fingers, cranking Kindermusik tunes in the car and singing along - loudly, and even sacrificing a precious Saturday to pack into the Zoo, elbow-to-elbow with other child-crazed families, just to see him smile at the experience.

One thing is for sure, for all the extreme, irrational and sometimes disgusting behaviors that go along with this Motherhood thing – every single minute that I get to hear my son call me “mommy” is worth it 10 times over.

So basically, 12 years from now, I’ll see you in the stands at the football game. I’ll be the one wearing the jacket that says “Band Mom”.