Mom Of The Year

 

MOM OF THE YEAR AWARD SUBMISSION
(pick me, pick me please…I have earned it)

I hereby nominate myself, Cassie Hammett, to receive this prestigious award.  Hold your applause please as I present to you my qualifications to carry the weight of this title.

When I first became a mama, in the middle of Africa, away from all the world and all the convenience of parenting, this mama was dealing with a baby who had the smelliest, most deadly-awful-worst-thing-you’ve-ever-smelt-in-your-entire-life poops. So, naturally, I drug her outside on a towel, with a shirt tied around my face and changed her on the ground, because dear God how could we live with that smell in our room.  We could not survive it.  No warm fuzzy moments were had in that process.  Liv stared up at me as I gagged and looked away, masked.  How terrifying.  Sorry about it.

While we are on the topic of the poops… this mama left 5 poop covered onesies behind, one in each seat back of each plane that transported us home from Africa.   Like I mean POOP COVERED….soaked.  Just left them.  Straight up stuffed em and left.  My little one decided the best time to EXPLODE was in the ascent and descent of each plane ride…when you can’t go anywhere and  you’re securely belted in being pooped all over in massive amounts.  What else was I supposed to do?  Oh the shame.  No eye contact with stewardesses because I knew what I had left them. Just a swift exit.  “Thank you for flying American,”  … ” no ma’am.  Don’t thank me.”

Speaking of poops.  Here is a list of locations where I have left poop covered items:  counter-culture, a local restaurant’s parking lot, the side of the road, a ditch, my church’s parking lot.  Yes ok.  I’m sorry.  I’m a cut and run kind of girl when it comes to runny poop.  We gotta get out of that as quick as possible.  Remember, this is for YOUR freedom…soak it in (not the poop)…the truth that you are not alone in the failing.

My child once said a cuss word in the most amazing and appropriate way… I mean like perfectly timed and used exactly how it means…and with the tone of a seasoned sailor.  I directly stood up from the couch, walked out of my front door and closed it behind me as I sat on my porch and laughed until I almost peed my pants….leaving the hubs to deal with the conversation.  Do you know what her justification was???   “Well mama said it Tuesday.”  Good God almighty.  What happened to not keeping a record of wrongs.

Once in a public place, my husband approached me and asked me to hold Liv.  I held out my arms and, because he thought I had grabbed her, he let go, and so did I, and she fell ALL THE WAY TO THE GROUND.  Like we just straight up dropped her.

I’ve sent my daughter out the front door in only shoes and socks and underwear because her school uniform was at her grandmas.  So a quick trip to grandma’s house and on to school.  She didn’t question this as I placed her backpack on her bare back, kissed her head and said, HAVE A GREAT DAY HONEY.  “Ok mom!”….and she went out the front door in only her undergarments and a hair bow.   So technically this is a two tiered situation…one: that my kid’s clothes weren’t where they needed to be, and so I sent her to school nude….but also TWO … that my darling didn’t question it.  Like full on acceptance. WHAT DOES THAT SAY??  I ask you?

My daughter has a pet rock, that lives in the fridge, that she has named “Fridge Rock”… naturally.  Cute right?  Well we’ve taken it past cute.  Fridge Rock has been with us for a year.  Liv goes in the morning and pats her in the fridge, just giving her a quick check.  We’ve had family members add eyes to Fridge Rock while Liv sleeps…so now she has eyes (and why am I calling a rock “she”), and Liv has taken Fridge Rock to show-and-tell, where her explanation was, “This is Fridge Rock.  She’s a rock that lives in our fridge.”  End of Story.  So perfectly normal in her sweet little mind.  But now how could we part with ole Fridge.  She’s in.

Here she is in all her glory.  Isn’t she the cutest??

A few weeks ago Liv requested to take a picture of our Esther to show and tell.  This was the sweetest request I’ve ever heard.  Before school I wanted to prepare her little heart for the many remarks or questions that her classmates may have of her sissy’s sweet cleft.  I didn’t want her to be standing there so proud and then have to defend her little sister…the thought was unbearable to me.  “So, Liv, your friends may have some questions about your sister’s special lip, so I want to make sure you know how to explain it so that they can understand how special it is.  “Oh mom, I already know what I’m going to say.”  “You do?”  “Yes ma’am, I’m gonna say what you say.”  (fear and trepidation enter my heart every time she says this)  “I’m just gonna say, ‘She just needs a little TLC and a good hair cut.”   OH.  MY.  LANTA.  It’s true but you know…not acceptable to say…even though I say it….apparently.

Once when my daughter said loudly in a restaurant that she loved the devil, I simply looked at her and told her to just eat her chicken.  Nothing else.

Her teacher at school always brings a back up whatever-the-assigned-item was to bring or costume they were supposed to wear…or crazy socks…or whatever unbelievably hard to remember obligation was presented because she’s pretty sure I will forget.  Feels real good.  And also, when asked once if she went to school that day she said, “Nope.” and when asked why she said, “because Papa was out of town.”  Hush child.  Don’t put our business out like that in the street.

<<I will go ahead and accept.  I know that there were no applicants as qualified as I.>>

Thank you.  Thank you.  I’d first like to thank Jesus… for putting up with me…and for all that forgiveness business…seriously couldn’t have done all this without ya…and to my husband…same really.  At to all the little people out there…I won’t forget you.

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I wanna FREE. YOU. UP, mamas.

Let’s face it, when it comes to being a mama, a lot of us have a lot of feels about it that are not all pretty;  some pretty gross beliefs in our heart, some feelings of being overlooked and exhausted and pushed to our limits, of being frazzled and less than.

But the sneakiest-ugly of them all is the constant, driving fear of not measuring up.  That somehow becoming a mom means we can no longer fail, no longer be human, no longer have our own thoughts and feelings.  And so we fight.  We fight to look the most put together.  To get our kids in all the right social circles.  To have the most presentable family.  To look like the best, super hero mom in all the land.

I do not believe this is where WE as mama’s are designed to live, to hang out, to dwell.

 

I am convinced that the best mama we can be to our littles…is actually one that fails, that doesn’t measure up.  A mama bird that doesn’t have what it takes at the end of the day to do this whole raising an entire human being thing.

Why?

Because if we don’t have what it takes, if we don’t in fact measure up, if we have deficits, then that leaves room for Jesus.  Space for Him to show up and do what only He can do with our babies.  He longs for mamas who’s hearts are completely dependent on Him.  That means more to Him than any amount of perfect-parenting we could ever muster up in our own strength…because when we are doing all the mustering, He is not in our equation.

So… take a deep breath.  Shake your shoulders around, do a little jig.  Breath in and out and celebrate the many ways we, as mamas, need Jesus.  This, by far, will set our littles up for success in life more than anything else we can do.

“My grace is enough; it’s all you need.
My strength comes into its own in your weakness.
Once I heard that, I was glad to let it happen. I quit focusing on the handicap and began appreciating the gift. It was a case of Christ’s strength moving in on my weakness. Now I take limitations in stride, and with good cheer, these limitations that cut me down to size—abuse, accidents, opposition, bad breaks.
I just let Christ take over! And so the weaker I get, the stronger I become. ”
2 Corinthians 12:8-10 MSG

AMEN & AMEN.

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So, what are your MOM OF THE YEAR moments!  Leave a comment and share some of your finer moments!  I’d love to laugh-cry with you!  Let’s ban together in the imperfection and declare that WE ARE ENOUGH NO MATTER IF OUR KID BELIEVES A ROCK IS ALIVE IN OUR FRIDGE.  

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May is MAMA month on the blog!  I will be featuring some fierce mamas, sharing more hilarious antics of my own and GIVING AWAY SOMETHING AWESOME!!!  So make sure and follow along!  I’m so pumped for what’s to come!