My mother’s day post for all you crazies

Sister Fierce doesn’t like that I call her baby Gilbert. Or Gilly, or Baby Gil.

The meaning of Gilbert is “bright promise.” I think that’s pretty great myself. When I informed her of this the other day she didn’t seem all that enthused. Just stared at me like I was the sickest human being on the Earth.

“Stop pushing on my stomach, IT HURTS!” No more love pokes for Gilbert. He’ll have to wait until he’s out of the womb. Sorry Gilly.

I don’t understand why people choose to be pregnant. It seems like it is the worst self-inflicted torture ever. Your body becomes deformed, you go through months of uncomfortable back pain, your feet swell, your hands swell, you gain weight, hormones rage turning you into a monster, and also changing your skin, hair, nails, and Lord knows what else, you’re tired all the time because you’re too uncomfortable to sleep, you undergo a tremendous amount of pain as your body tries to get rid of this person it’s been feeding and carrying forever, and then you have this screaming child that you have to take responsibility of for the rest of your life. 

I will adopt.

But how can you deprive the world of curly-haired, chubby-cheeked cuteness Katelyn?


Sister Fierce can be the one to produce the grandchildren. I’ll just ride on her coattails, and poke her pregnant belly. Maybe one of her children will come out with curly hair, and we won’t be completely deprived.

I want children, but why does it have to be such an ordeal to bake them? (That wasn’t a typo, because that’s basically what a woman does, she bakes babies.) You know, why couldn’t God have made it equally as terrible for both men and women? The men gain some “sympathy” weight and… well that’s about it. And of course we all know how fast men can drop weight. “Yeah man, I just cut out one slice of bread a day and dropped 15 pounds.”

A woman struggles for years to drop her “baby weight.” On top of having to breast feed, wake up several times in the middle of the night, change diapers, clean up puke, boogers, and whatever else comes out, and teach this child how to, oh I don’t know… LIVE!

I have witnessed first hand how hard being a mother is. A mother loves so unconditionally, so deeply, there are no words to truly describe it. There is so much self-sacrifice involved it is incredible.

Last night we went to The Neph’s school program. He is attending the same preschool/kindergarten that Sister Fierce and I went to. I sat between Sister Fierce and Crazy Lady and it was a complete sobfest the entire time. Sister Fierce crying it up (I’m sure pregnancy hormones played a part) because The Neph was singing a song about not being little for long… and Crazy Lady shedding tears because it wasn’t that long ago that her babies were up there screaming/singing their lungs out.

I was caught feeling I needed to cry too, to share in their moment. Guilty by association. Okay fine, I shed tears because The Neph was just so darn cute up there, and I can’t believe how old he is! I was being a ninny. It doesn’t happen often. Okay fine, it does.

My mom is a tough cookie. She had four children. Hence why she is named Crazy Lady. We have not made life easy for her, there has been much self-sacrificing from Crazy Lady. One thing I love the most about my mom though is that she has never made us feel terrible, or dark, or wrong when we have had emotional outbursts. And over the years there have been many. We vent, we rage, we cry, we laugh, we sit in silence with a glass of wine (excluding Sister Silent of course) because sometimes we just don’t have words. She lets us get it out. When you have a family with very strong personalities you are bound to get into spats quite often, but the thing about my family is we hash it out and then move on. Crazy Lady has given us an open platform that is ours for the taking when we need it. She has also given us the privacy we needed as well.

Crazy Lady also puts up with me calling her Crazy Lady in my blog.


I think out of all the things I have wanted the most yet have been completely terrified of, it’s being a mom.

So, hats off to all the moms… you crazies!



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