My sweet little son, this human being who I've repeatedly asked to keep his fingers out of his nose, and his hands off the tv remote has just got into the tub and poured a can of Sprite over his head just because he wanted to know what it felt like. Children are experimental, but why do I feel the need to tell you only the good things he does? Let's admit it, in life, or in Mommyhood, none of us are the big P word.
I am not perfect. Never have I ever been, and never will I be.
Let's get right down to it, do I like being a Mom? Most days I would say no, but the moment I found out he was coming I made a commitment to him. This is the single longest relationship I have ever been in, with anything. I was 22 when he was born, but at 21, just as I was legal to drink I also had to decide if his life had a place in mine. His conception was a complete fluke accident, (not even kidding), that my OB nor Gretzky could have predicted. By the time the fear of wwwaahh set in I was sitting bare-assed on a thin piece of tissue paper in a clinic in California at lunch time saying to myself, what the actual fuck have I done?
Now he's fully formed, he can open cans and bottles, make sandwiches for himself, and can flip on the dishwasher. He is 4 going on 45, because he likes the fake morning coffee I make him and watching the CNN ticker with me. I love him, but the thought of spending every single day of my life talking about how perfect he is drives me crazy! I'll never be that kind of parent. Unlike this weekend, when I was away from him and wandering around at Big Lots excited to go on a girls night with my friends. I came across the toy aisles and noticed little army men in a bucket, at which point I had to hold back tears. I set off one of those toy blaster guns to jolt myself out of the emotional coma so I didn't look like the crazy lady crying in the toy aisle at Big Lots, which would have happened. This is the person that I am now, and while parts of me remain the same this one has changed.
Before you son, I was fun.
I used to stay up until 5 in the morning, then go to work, and take a 3 hours nap before I went out and repeated staying out all night again with my friends.
I could drink and dance pretty much anyone under the table.
I used to read entire books in one day, no matter how long the book, because I felt like it.
I used to go out on my own, to any store and look for hours without anyone asking me a single question.
I would drive, just for the hell of it, on long road trips because I wanted to get away and I could.
Now I fall asleep with you on one arm, (as it's falling asleep), and 15 pages of This Is Where I Leave You read because I've tried reading it earlier while you cleaned up Legos. Instead you insisted on playing 20 questions, when clearly you knew exactly where that towel went! (I love that about you.) Sometimes I just want to read my book in peace! Sometimes I just want to read, then go to bed, and not wake up until I'm actually ready to be awake.
As for you new parents, enjoy this time. Seriously! It's so beautiful because newborns pretty much stay where you put them, and if you want to watch reruns of Sex and the City, (not edited for E!) then you can. Feel free! Pretty much just binge watch, sleep, and nap with the baby. You will be close, and you also won't stay up like I did and almost drive yourself insane. Also workout, because it's good for you and you can do it at home, or just stay in sweatpants all day. I challenge you to just take care of yourself. Just do that for me right now, please, because I'm telling you pretty soon you won't be able to or you'll forget about it.
Also be reminded of this, you are not a super hero and no one expects you to be. We don't have to exchange pleasantries because eventually you're stroller will no longer be the shiny new Cadillac, and there's also the possibility you'll accidentally get shit all over your Skip Hop diaper bag. It happens! In fact, I hope it does because then you'll figure out how to correctly wash it. Right now I envy you, because you probably still like your pediatrician a lot, or maybe you're settling into a brand new house with Pottery Barn from floor to ceiling. In which case, I hate you intensely.
Just don't take it for granted. Let's discuss real things, and don't try and impress me. We have 17 more years of playgroups, graduations, and perfectly planned Pinterest birthdays to do that. Right now, let's revel in that we don't have Cheerios in our hair, and that I can still see the floorboard of my car.
xo,
C
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