It's okay to like being a mom, asshole!

I had a revelation at work, mainly because I had nothing better to do. This evening I'm attending a surprise birthday party for a friend of ours and one of the perks is having the house to ourselves, overnight! Woo-hoo, right? Monday morning, Friday night couldn't come fast enough. Friday night, I was woo-hooing up a storm. This morning, realizing I'd be at work all day with no opportunities to see my little man, whatsoever, between now and the post party revellry, the woo-hooing turned into boo-hooing and I've been a mess all day. At this moment in time, I am every man's nightmare. A pregnant, constantly craving, hormonally loaded gun. Chris, begrudgingly promised to bring Ev by work, if for no other reason, then so his night can be as pleasant as possible, given my state. I've spent the last half hour since that phone call, running down what my activities for the night would've been, had I not been given a "reprieve" from my parental duties. I would've watched Ev eat some dinner and throw some on the floor. He would've had his bath, which would include ample boat floating, water squirting, mommy drenching time, followed by pj's and "Max and Ruby". We might've played upstairs with some cars, or put his train tracks up, maybe listened to some blues and played his harmonica. Lastly, "Thomas the Train", cuddling in my bed and finally, a story before watching him fall asleep. I thought, sadly, of all those things, then I thought; "What the FUCK is wrong with me? I have the night off! I've been bitching about not having a night, just for us and here I am, lamenting my freedom and wishing I could just cancel now?" It's ironic, because I feel like I spend so much time trying to be the anti-mom and fighting responsibility, that I've intentionally ignored my maternal libido. Tonight is going to be great! Chris and I are going to have a fantastic time, with friends we NEVER get to socialize with for more than two hours at a time, or without the constant interruption of our toddler. So why do I feel like I'm going to be missing out on so much by going out? Maybe, it's because, sometimes, I think it's funny when Evan opens his full mouth, to display his chewed hot dog. Maybe, it's because I don't mind being soaked with lukewarm bath water and having to change after I get Ev settled. Perhaps, I enjoy ramming cars into each other or being pelted with plastic balls by my boys. There is a good chance, I'll have to admit my sudden, nay secret, affection for "Thomas the Train", even the episodes I've seen so many times I can quote them. Most likely, it's because all the "insignificant" routines, become so much more valuble when I'm not able to experience them. I used to pride myself on being what I considered, the "cool" mom. The mom who endures these things, but would NEVER willingly surrender to them, let alone look forward to them. This afternoon, I've been forced to accept the undeniable truth that I DO, in fact, like being a mom with all the mom responsibilites. I DO love all the little, "uncool" addictions that come with mom-dom, be it a television show I swore I'd never watch or a toy I insisted I'd never buy. Who did I think I was and why did I think I was above motherhood? Why does it feel like I'm being a traitor to myself to admit that I'd rather spend time with my kid, then be out partying somewhere? I've convinced myself having a child means having to choose between being an actual person and being a mother. I thought that,as mother's we're supposed to be infallable, examples of perfection for our offspring and I was positive I was the only mom who wasn't afraid to boldly be human, first. I've seen other mother's at their most human and I've realized the only thing I was afraid to be was "mommy". I need to be me as a mom and it's okay if that's the same person as Marci. When I originally started this blog, I called it "real mutha", like I was some novelty in the parenting world and my views were so original and "honest", but what I've come to find, from talking with other mothers and...being bored at work, is that every mother is "real" to herself and that by denying myself the ability to fully engage in my maternal urges, I was, in fact, not being honest, or a "real mutha". (On a sidenote, Chris just called me, sounding somewhat anxious, to let me know that he would not be able to stop by with the boy and I am a little choked up...dear lord!)