for all the moms who don’t fit in a box

Not too long ago there was a BuzzFeed video going around about the different types of moms. You know.. crunchy moms, helicopter moms, hot mess moms, etc. I remember watching it and thinking, “Where do I fit?”

One of the hardest things about motherhood for me has been figuring out what kind of mom I am. I love home births and believe in the benefits of natural birth (GIRL POWER BITCHES, WE WERE BORN FOR THIS SHIT!), but I also hated the birthing process (I’m sure an 11lb baby didn’t help). I’m pro-breastfeeding but I stopped breastfeeding both my kids at 6 months because it was difficult as hell and I selfishly wanted my body back. I rarely watch Cora when she’s running wild in the backyard (I’d make a horrible helicopter mom), but I’ll be damned if my kids don’t have basic manners and can play well with others. We eat a shit ton of fruit but we also can’t live without bacon and mac & cheese. We vaccinate, but we don’t circumcise. I cuss in front of my kids, but we don’t spank. I swore we wouldn’t sleep train and our babies would “sleep when they’re ready” but fuck that, I was exhausted. And guess what? My kids are happy…probably because we’re all sleeping like champs.

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(Here’s a picture of a Wookiee in a cage, just because.)

Basically, I have crunchy tendencies but I also know the value of my own sanity. I know my limits. This season of my life I like to call The Season of Pick-Your-Battles.

It wasn’t until recently that I finally stopped reading things and comparing my parenting techniques to others. Every kid is different. Every parent is different. My children are fed, healthy, happy, and they laugh daily. They’re socialized enough to not be weirdos (well, they’re still weirdos, look at their parents) but not so much that we’re never home. I go with my gut more these days and I’ve stopped stressing about what other moms will think.

There is no box I fit in. I just flit around all the boxes like a hummingbird on speed. I. Just. Don’t. Care. Anymore.

(Psst, you shouldn’t either. Do the damn thing, momma.)

– amanda

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