Snapshot of Motherhood

Being held hostage by your seat belt while your two-year-old is madly wailing from the confines of his car seat, with your other kids safely belted into their car seats and shielding their ears for protection, you will do almost anything as a mother to just make it stop. Almost anything. It is like Chinese fingernail torture, only worse because you often can't give in to the demands of your tormentor. It's often because he's dropped some beloved toy out of reach, like between his car seat and door and he can't reach it. And no amount of explanation will help.

"Buddy, I can't reach it right now; you'll just have to wait until I stop the car."

Blank stare, total disbelief, a look that says, You're Supermommy. You can do anything. You've saved my toy from the floor before; why can't you save it now?

And maybe you are on the freeway, and pulling over is just not possible at this exact second. This is where you either make a crazy, reckless decision while driving, carrying the life of your three precious hearts behind you, or you just let him scream.

I have heard a lot of screaming in the last six and a half years.

Lately, I have been convinced that all a girl needs to do to prepare for motherhood [before you have even one child] is to find a youtube recording of a baby, infant, toddler, preschooler, and school-age kid howling his head off and then listen to it for up to 70 percent of your waking day, learn to not let it phase whatever task you're doing or rattle your emotional cage, and you're pretty much prepared to handle the stress of the job. I say pretty much because it won't be your child you are listening to on youtube, and that will make just that extra bit of difference you can't plan for.

There have been times when I have been able to accomplish whatever trick was needed to make the agony stop. I always consider myself to be "safe" in these maneuvers, but sometimes I have to admit they can be on the fringe. Last night, for example, my four-year-old was thirsty and wanted some water. I was on a curve, but I was able to keep my eyes on the road, left hand on the steering wheel, feel for the water bottle beside me, and pass it back to her, all without even a flinch. And this was a nonemergency. My husband would've told her to wait, but I understand the desperate-need-for-it-now-ness of situations, especially thirst, and so I try to oblige whenever I can, as cautiously as needed. I have my limits. When the item is unreachable or I have to contort my body in such a way that I can't keep my eyes on what I'm doing, then I just say no.

But just saying no is not as easy as it sounds.

Pull your heart out of your chest, strap onto it chubby little arms and legs, along with a frustratingly unthwartable will of its own, and you know what it means to have a child.