The Mess of Motherhood

Mother’s Day makes us think of the picture perfect moments- the smiling, beautiful mom with her smooth hair and perfect skin, embracing her happy children with a calm, glowing smile on her face. Those moments, or some other Hallmark variation of what beautiful looks like,
happen, but for many of us, those times are fewer and further between. Motherhood is messy. The experiences are messy, the emotions are messy, the daily challenges, and the humans (big or small) with all of the crumbs and sticky things that they leave behind.

With the vast number of non picture-perfect moments, on the occasion that the beautiful moments actually exist, we chase those puppies down, and you better believe that we bring our camera. The hard parts, the messy parts, make us crave even more that family photo, the pretty brunch out, the mommy-and-me picture. They are tokens of the sacred delight that exist in our hearts, sometimes loud and joyful, sometime quiet as a whisper, possibly buried underneath the tower of laundry which accumulates faster than we can wash and fold it. It helps us to remember that, even in all the mess, we are involved in something beautiful.

It starts with pregnancy, usually, and most certainly with the birth. They make a mess of our bodies, our schedules, then our houses, our kitchens, our cars and our handbags. It’s work to recover lost ground, a daily exercise of both trying to stay ahead of the mess, and trying to let go. Things may not as neat and tidy as you’d like, maybe you’re good at staying ahead, or maybe you embrace a lot of the mess and laugh in spite of it. Either way, there’s no shortage of shortcomings (it can feel like we’re actually making a big mess of things ourselves). Most days you can find us with our work boots on (or yoga pants and dirty shirts), our hair tied back , up to our elbows in the mess. It may be cheerios or dirty uniforms, spit up or back talk, but there’s plenty of dirt to work with.

My niece recently asked me if I mind dirty shoes. She’s a teenager, forming her views on life, finding her way in the world, and looking for the best version of all of it. It’s her job to be an idealist. She likes clean shoes (as well as even mascara application and tidy closets.) I chuckled to myself. I do too, in theory, but the reality is that mine are often dirtier than my teenage self would have expected of her future self. I’m a mom of young ones, and it’s my job to get messy as I help clean up. Dirty shoes is practically in the job description, and certainly one of the messes that I must embrace right now.

As we continue each day of motherhood, we have the opportunity to witness the collision of our expectations versus reality, like a too-fast moving truck barreling down a beautiful country road and slamming into an idyllic picket fence. Our road is twisty, our plans or ideals are often too unreasonable, untenable or delicate. When reality arrives, in all of it’s force, there’s often a grand mess that is left in its wake. Changed plans, spilled juice on beautiful outfits, sick days when you planned adventure. Reality trumps expectation again and again, a song on repeat. Often, the most untenable ideals are the ones that we had held for ourselves. The afternoon cookies that don’t get made, the meals that don’t get properly planned and executed, the calm and patient words that don’t come out when they’re most needed. Those are the sometimes the hardest messes swallow.

The biggest mess, though, is possibly the one that’s made of our hearts. Big emotions jumble together in your heart, intertwined and important. Some begin the moment you find out you will be a mother, no matter how this baby arrives. There’s incredible joy at the eternal title bestowed on you, like a crown placed on your head. You, from this point on, forever, no matter what, until a garland of flowers sits beside your casket, will be “Mom”. Messy emotions manage to arrive, too. Unbidden and constant, they prove to be fearsome foes – the worry, the guilt, the doubt of ourselves or our actions, the push and pull of the maternal connections. The emotions are changing and varied through life, continuing on even when both you and your children are older and grey. Joy and pain, joy and pain.

These children do fill up our hearts, (and our closest, but that’s another discussion!) in a lot of wonderful ways, of course. Even with all of the mess, most of us know it is a true honor to have them and we wouldn’t trade them in for all the tidiness ever possible in the world. The most beautiful things are messy at some point and almost all of them at the start. They grow in the dirt and the mud, the kind which imbeds itself deep into your fingernails and settles behind your ears. The most beautiful buildings and houses are built with a great measure of sweat equity, mistakes, and maybe even a bit of swearing. Is any coincidence that Mothers’ Day arrives with a profusion of flowers -bought, gifted and grown? They are nature’s original homegrown beauties, born of mess.

I was able to visit a local greenhouse this week with my daughter’s preschool class. (“My first fieldtrip!” she beamed. Truthfully it was a bit messy getting there, with the schedules and the moving pieces of our puzzle, but we did it.) I’ve driven by this particular farm countless times but had yet to stop. As the owner family led us on the tour, I was struck by how beautiful their life appeared, working together to grow foods that nourish and flowers that spread beauty. They took turns showing us different things, the mom, dad, and their grown daughter. It was clear this type of life is hard work and dirty. It require lots of forethought, and planning, patience and work. The daughter was probably in her 20s, both youthful and hardworking in her pigtails and Carhart’s, with a smattering of freckles. The mom, with her kindness and attention to both plants and people, the dad’s dutiful watering, the massive amounts of dirt that they moved with machines and the delicate seeds that they planted, all demonstrated a certain grace that made you feel like this was something truly special. It was hard work. Messy, beautiful, hard work.

Motherhood is not unlike that. It is messy, hard, beautiful work. You end up with dirt underneath your fingernails, in your hair, and on your shoes. You worry over your seedlings, you plan ahead and think to the future as you water and wait. You rise early and stay until the job is done. You, too, bring beauty to the earth. You are doing something hopeful and meaningful. You grow flowers of the people kind.

Whatever part of motherhood you’re feeling today, the messy digging, the waiting, marveling at how your little seedlings have grown into blooming flowers, maybe even mourning one you lost, just honor that moment. It’s all a part of and connected to the life you have tended. Every gardener gets a little messy, and every gardener realizes that it’s completely worth it, even the tough parts. You just can’t let the messy parts get to you, let the dirt make you feel like a failure or that your life is less than beautiful. The messy is deeply connected to the beautiful; dirt makes the flowers possible. You can’t have flowers without dirt and you certainly can’t have children without a little mess.

Enjoy the beautiful flowers that you see on Mother’s Day and buy them for yourself if you have to. Remember that your dirt has made, and continues to make something beautiful grow. You understand what an honor it is to have a front row, dirty knees seat, to your children’s growth. It’s an incredible honor to be their mom, and watch them grow. In the middle of all the messy and imperfect.

Oh, and whenever you can, take that picture of your messy and your beautiful life. It’s so magically both.