Friday, January 30, 2009

more ruminations on the subject of being a mom for a whole year -

for these past twelve months, I haven't asked much of myself.

(not that I set myself any remarkably rigorous standards in the first place.)

but basically, my big task for any given day was to make sure the baby managed to survive the forthcoming 24 hours. just make sure Wolfie doesn't choke to death or smother to death or freeze to death or boil to death or bleed to death or come down with fatal diaper rash, and everything would be okay. anything else I managed to do, like cook dinner or pee or show loving affection to my partner - that was just sort of extra.

and now, apparently, the easy part is over.

I get the sense that as time goes on, it will get harder. The World will not be satisfied with merely producing a live child once a day for its inspection. I get the feeling that people will require some hard evidence of progress - percentiles, milestones, developmental achievements, other statistics that prove...something. but what?

I fear harsh judgment of my mothering "skills". I fear "solid" foods and their association in my mind with certain and immediate death by choking. I fear all sorts of things going into his second year of life.

whoever told me this gets easier? yeah, tell me again.

It gets easier, at least until they turn 13. Keeping the baby from killing himself- phooey. Just put some plugs in the electrical outlets and don't feed him doritoes. Keeping a teen from killing himself (or others). Well.

You can do it. Your innate curiosity will keep your mind agile, and you will learn to be one step ahead at all times.

I also recommend Thomas the Tank Engine videos. Annoying as hell for grownups, but little kids love them.

Have I ever told you about the timeĀ all 3 kids, ages 18 mos, 2-1/2 yrs, and 4 yrs, got up on the roof?
Have I ever told you about the time all 3 kids, ages 18 mos, 2-1/2 yrs, and 4 yrs, got up on the roof?

now that's agile. I mean, seriously. that takes talent. and drive. and initiative. and teamwork. and wow.

did you feel a mix of horror and terror and pride? on the one hand - EEEEEEEEEEEK! on the other hand, that's quite impressive.
Happy birthday to Wolfy!
why thank you, auntie daisy!
I'm coming up on my 20th college reunion and have a classmate whose daughter is attending my college (eek I'm old!). He's unbelieveably proud, as I would be too in his shoes.

Someday when Wolfie is off to college and on his own, you'll be that proud too... as well as thinking "how in the f--- did I get through all of that???".

Through all of the happiness, challenges, the WTF moments, you're experiencing something many of us will never experience. Consider yourself blessed in the grander scheme (and not so blessed in the smaller scheme of things when you have to clean up vomit, but you get my drift).

If I ever experience it, I'll have cheated - no kids for me unless I inherit them. Michelle (Meesh) has a (I think) 6 year old, but the kid intro and stuff is a ways off if at all. We're still in the rekindling phase.

Rootie is right - hit Walmart or Target and get those plastic electric socket covers, move all your cleaning products to a high shelf, and slap a gate on any open staircase and blammo (technical term) - kid proof house.

You're blessed like I never will be. Remember that. Daily.
And oh, I forgot - happy birthday to the 'Gang!
Initially I was horrified, and once I got them down (SOMEONE had left a ladder up against the house and his initials are SD)I left 2 incomprehensible voice mails on his work phone. He brought me flowers and a babysitter and groveled some. Now I think it's hilarious, especially compared to the shenanigans they get into as teenagers.
Another thing- don't bother with figuring out what you'll do when he's 12. Take it (at most) 3 months as a time, for now. Don't worry about a situation until it presents itself, you'll make yourself crazy if you plan too far ahead, because they will NEVER behave the way you expect them to.
Post a Comment

<< Home

This page is powered by Blogger. Isn't yours?