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The series, There’s a Purpose for Your Pain is launching with a second guest feature. In addition to Sarah Inman, we have Xavia Omega, blogger at The Messiful Mama. Xavia came to me with the piece below, and I immediately found myself mumbling, “been there,” and chuckling as she walks us through some of her messier moments as a mom. Xavia and I both work to “celebrate the mess,” as she puts it. You can find her on Facebook and Instagram, and please don’t leave here without checking out “‘I’ve Got Glitter In My Panties’ and 6 Other Phrases That Don’t Mean What You Think They Do.” I will let you read her introduction and continue to the feature, where you’ll take a walk with her and her children through some typical, painful moments where you doubt yourself as a stable mother.
Hello! Xavia aka The Messiful Mama, here, empowering moms to live their best life, while embracing the beautiful and messy elements that make it so wonderful. I am the mother of 4 amazing, spirited children who definitely keep me on my toes and, although, plenty of my days full of chaos and drama, I wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world. With a little mindfulness to balance my imperfections, and a whole lot of loving myself through all the Real & Raw of motherhood, somehow, moment by moment, I make it work.
“The 10 Things That Will Likely Keep Me From Winning “Mother of the Year”
I can just see it now.
“And the mother of the year award goes to, Xavia Omega!”
My name will sound so eloquent rolling off the M.C.’s tongue, only I won’t hear her say it because I’ll be outside in the hallway, because I’ll be running LATE; my clan and I will have just arrived.
I will quickly compose, though, and pretentiously strut up to the podium very pleased with myself, something like a peacock, but just as they extend the trophy to me…
My youngest daughter will begin to whine loudly that she’s SO HUNGRY, and even though I can assure you she was given 3 options for lunch and offered a snack on the way, she will fix her puppy dog eyes just so, her deceivingly petite frame may even quiver, and you’ll swear I don’t feed her.
At this point the committee members will begin exchanging glances, then it will happen. My oldest daughter will shout out, “Mom, you look Damn beautiful”! I will have no excuse for her LANGUAGE but I will smile because, after all, I’m sure I will look Damn beautiful when I go to accept my award.
The crowd will begin to snicker and the room will smell like “second thoughts”. Everyone will take a slightly closer look at me and the kids.
They’ll notice my son has on short sleeves and they won’t see a sweater or jacket on his chair, even though its January, and they’ll wonder, “why is he DRESSED so INAPPROPRIATELY?” Of course they will not have the footage from earlier when I told him 5 times to get something warm on nor will there be a viral YouTube video of the 7 minute earful he received in the car when I finally noticed he never listened. And, if the odds are ever in my favor, I’m sure he’ll have the sniffles as well.
Then their attention will shift once again to my daughter who, I’m sure, will be decorated in band aids and boo boos. I do not PUT MY HANDS ON HER, as it would appear, that just happens to be how she rolls; with a Murphy’s Law kind of swagger.
At this point not only will I smell second thoughts but a dirty diaper as well, because it will only serve to compliment the moment that the baby will drop a shadoobie. At least one person will wonder how long he’s been sitting in it because I’m sure the little guy will be STINKY. My mothers intuition will telepathically pick up on this one person and it will piss me off and I will shout out, “He just pooped, just now!”. This will probably make me look a little CRAZY. And, as I’m shouting he’ll start crying so I’ll start lactating and the ring around my breast will,no doubt, make me look a little DIRTY & UNKEMPT.
I will begin to laugh hysterically because, well because the irony will just tickle me so deep down and as I make my way to the restroom, UNPREPARED with no diaper or wipes in hand cause I forgot them in the car, my exit will be nothing short of theatrical. My ducklings will surely follow on my heels and I think it’s safe to say we won’t return; through the eyes in the back of my head I could see everyone on the committee all shake their heads a unanimous, “No”.
As we are leaving, I imagine I will pass a sympathetic mother who offers a well intended, “better luck next year” but then I will think she must just be the nanny cause any mom who just watched that trail of flames would know, I pretty much ruined my chances for future consideration as well.