Sunday, February 13, 2011

Things that are wonderfully surprising about being a mother (in no order; list is not complete)

1. Play. It is fun to play on the floor. It’s like I had forgotten how to do that. Now I play on the floor all the time. I bark like a dog. Make funny faces. Puff out my cheeks. Anything goes.

2. Toots. Baby toots are hilarious. She has no manners (yet.) No shame. Just rat-a-tat toots (pop, pop, pop) any time, all the time.

3. Poop. There is a fascination with baby poop. I never thought I would care or that this would happen. I never thought I would be amused by or want to talk about poop. Here I am. I also never thought that D and I would talk about poop. “Honey, come and see this!” or “God, babe, there is like a ton of poo in her fat folds. Gross.”

4. Love. Yes, everyone has written and said how much you love your child—you will love your child more than you love anything, anyone, including yourself. Of course. Got it. This is not a surprise to me. But, what is surprising to me is the amount of love she has for me. I remember when I was pregnant; I worried that she would not like me. What if? Now, I am so amazed at the amount of total, unprompted love that she has for me. She adores me. Follows me around. Wants my attention and approval. I am her sun. It’s is flattering and wonderful and I want to be better (at all things) to be worthy of that love. That love is amazing. (I am aware that this "love" is a survival thing; that it is an evolutionary thing that she needs me to survive.)

5. Laugh. Her laugh is my favorite thing. It is so great it can make me cry with joy just thinking about it. And oh, that toothless grin (I rue the day she gets those pesky teeth and looses that toothless grin forever. The day that my little Elmer Fudd will transform into someone new, something less cartoony, someone more beautiful.)

6. Small. My life is so small now. It is about moments and sighs and smiles and giggles and toots. I have found what is really important. Everything else pales in comparison. It’s not that I don’t miss my friends, because I do. But I am addicted to these small moments. She will only be this age, this size for a short time. My friends (the true ones) will still be there, beautiful, interesting, and full of love for me, when I resurface from this small bubble of baby love. S is it. She is worth staying home; she is worth not drinking; she is worth missing out on happy hours and parties; she is worth it all.

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