Tonight I became aware of some of the badges of motherhood.  If you have a baby, you may have heard people tell you not to worry about the spit-up all over your shoulder or, worse, down your back and on your shoe.  When this happened to me, much to my chagrin, I always heard, “Don’t worry about it.  Consider it a badge of motherhood.”  Nevertheless, I was always thankful to be out of that stage, where you didn’t have to worry about what might be stuck to your shoulder as you headed out for a night on the town.

I guess because I had a hard time thinking of myself as a mother when I was pregnant the first time, I didn’t really count the globs of food that often graced my pregnant belly at the end of nearly every meal as another kind of badge of motherhood.  But now that I am experiencing that stage again, I am totally counting those stains among my badges.  Who else can look down from eating a chocolate chip cookie to find a chocolate chip or two perched atop of her stomach?  Definitely the sign of a mother.

Tonight I experienced another badge of motherhood.  In fact, I’m starting to wonder how often I carry this around, because this badge is not in a spot I usually notice.  I sat next to my toddler son at supper tonight.  We were eating chili which, you may not realize, is not a utensils-only food when it comes to toddlers.  Apparently my son was in need of a little reassurance, because he kept reaching out to touch my arm.  I’m pretty sure my upper arm now bears some bright orange spots as a result.  Call me a well-rounded mom, because I’m starting to get these badges of motherhood all over myself.

With two girls and another one on the way, I’m just waiting for the day I get the badge of teenage-motherhood:  mascara marks on my shoulder.

Photo by reconstructionist