motherhood doesn't come with grades.....dammit.

This one goes out to all the nerds like me.

You rocked at school. You worked hard and the system was good to you. Every week you took quizzes and tests and you’d get them back with shiny, spanking A’s on them. Each quarter you’d eagerly look forward to that slim, sexy envelope, validation on paper, your report card.  And it was great. Once in awhile you’d get an A-, or, shock and horror, a B+, but you’d console yourself with the plethora of other full-on A’s. You were going places.

And then, a few or so years later, you have a baby. All of a sudden you’re pulling all-nighters again, just like school. You’re skipping meals to get in extra work, just like school. You’re stress-eating at weird hours of the night, just like school. Your “freshman 15” is more like “baby 35,” but apart from exact poundage, just like school. After a couple months of feeding, wiping, and burping your little guy, you start to look around for your A. Um, hello? I mean, this baby is in a milk coma, sleeping three-hour stretches at a time, and the other day you swore it smiled at you. Where’s your freaking A+?

And it slowly and horrifyingly dawns on you. Motherhood doesn’t come with grades…dammit.  After you have a baby, you realize you miss the validation of school.

You get depressed. You turn to social media before realizing all the other moms appear to be doing it better than you and you really only rate a C, which is a lie, of course, because online you’re only seeing their A work, not the times they’re covered in their own breast milk screaming full-on into the microwave for maximum acoustics.

So, you big mama nerd, let me say a couple of things. First of all, c’mere. You’re not alone. Me, too. Me. Too. Second, we have to give each other the report cards. Let me validate the holy diaper nugget out of you. You get an A. You show up every day and change for P.E. and bring sharpened pencils and participate in class. You are the freaking participation queen of the class. You participate the heckballs out of motherhood. HUGE GOLD STAR. A-PLUS-A-MUNDO. 

As moms, we have to encourage one another, because we get precious little of it from the rest of the world. Our babies spit up our bottle and breast milk alike, our toddlers throw our dinners across the table and smear it in their hair, and our older kids tell us it’s horrible and that their friends’ moms are better cooks.

Screw them. You are amazing. You are winning at parenting. You’ve won. No one can be a better mom than you to your unique kids. You are the very best, the top of the class, the valedictorian of mommying your kids. I’m awarding you straight A’s, a gold cord, and the special Chief Nerd tassle for your cap. You’re giving the speech, you’re the first in line, and we are clapping our booties off for you.

“Oh the places you’ll go.” Oh the places. All the Dr. Seuss words for you, dear mama. You're the very best.

Written by Melanie Dale