I used to wake up Monday mornings to a screeching alarm clock with a grumbled four letter word and a chip on my shoulder. I would haul my fat, tired ass out of bed to get ready for my crappy office job, resenting the ungodly hour, resenting that I was not some trust fund baby so rich that people felt compelled to give me things for free. Instead, I'd wake up with the same white trash heritage I went to sleep with. At least I overcame it, right? I clawed my way from the bottom all the way to the lower middle.
Now, if I sleep, I wake to a beautiful smile from my little baby boy. I am the dreaded stay at home mom. Sure, as an office monkey, I wasn't exactly a career woman, just working to pay for rent, going out to dinner with my sister and my gays, and some quality time with my wonderful husband. But now, I am pinching pennies so that every morning I can look into his face and say, "GOOD MORNING!" and have him blink, rub his eyes with hands and then give me that big toothy grin worth all the disposable income in the world.
I've been thinking about my life and how every phase of it, I seem to be a new person altogether. As a child, I was a victim and a hostage to a white trash alcoholic/addict mother. In my teens, early twenties, I was a survivor. I was angry and I was mean and I was good at it. I loved being bitter and jaded, hell, I still do. I felt justified, righteous even, unleashing on some poor jerk I thought wronged me. Don't get me wrong, there are plenty of jack asses in the world that deserve it and some days I am still looking for a fight. Every now and then I am still itching to punch someone in the throat.
I have been told motherhood has mellowed me. I say nay, nay to that. I have merely entered into the next phase of my life, mama bear. Let some psycho step between me and my son, we'll see how mellow I've become. And just let me take a minute to really give a nod to all the mothers that have lifted cars off their children and shown amazing stamina when their children are in danger. Mother's can move mountains (and molehills) for their children. They can change a diaper in the trunk of the car, find lost shoes and socks, manage a household and change the world all on three hours of sleep. My love to all the mama bears out there.