One year ago, at this time, your father and I were sitting in Sardine, trying to enjoy our meal as the heavy reality of your impending birth loomed in the room. My bag was packed with things I ended up not using (except for the Oceans 11 DVD which was great to watch in the hospital). We were nervous. We were scared. We thought we were ready.
Since then, you've proven that when parents tell newbies that "You're never really prepared," there's truth to that statement. I wasn't prepared for how the lack of sleep would hit me. I wasn't prepared for how you could push my patience to the limits. I wasn't prepared for how my relationship with everyone would change. I wasn't prepared for how my worldview would change. I wasn't prepared for how humbling of an experience this is -- you start learning about your limits and how you have to go beyond them no matter what.
Now, this is where someone would whip out a cliche line like "I wasn't prepared for how much I'd love you." I was tempted to do that, but I'm not going to. Because I knew how much I would love you and how all-consuming, dizzying and sweet that love is.
Right now there's a story about 17 teen girls in Gloucester, Mass., who are pregnant thanks to a pact they made:
But Amanda Ireland, who graduated from Gloucester High on June 8, thinks she knows why these girls wanted to get pregnant. Ireland, 18, gave birth her freshman year and says some of her now pregnant schoolmates regularly approached her in the hall, remarking how lucky she was to have a baby. "They're so excited to finally have someone to love them unconditionally," Ireland says. "I try to explain it's hard to feel loved when an infant is screaming to be fed at 3 a.m."Here's the thing. The unconditional love doesn't come from you. Your love right now is conditional -- if I don't give you the phone, the laptop or my keys, stop you from unrolling the toilet paper or put you down when you want me to walk with you around the kitchen for the eleventy-billionth time (OH MY BACK!), you pitch a fit that would make Naomi Campbell proud. You scream, you cry, you come crawling to me wailing, "MINION! I COMMAND THEE!"
Then there's the other lines:
"HOW DARE YOU THWART ME! I just wanted to hurl myself down the stairs!"
And this gem:
"OH FUCK NO! You can not just put me down in front of this big box of toys!
The unconditional love is coming from me right now. This is a one-way street for now. There's plenty of times where I feel like I'm the straight man to a lunatic prop comedian hopped up on meth and PCP, but honestly, those times also crack me up. Even though I can't show you that, because that's what parenting's about. I have to keep a straight face even though mentally I'm giggling like a loon.
I was looking through a lot of pictures of when you were born and the months afterward and the change from birth to now startled me. It also made me start tearing up and using my shirt sleeve as a handkerchief. I'm amazed by the progress. I wasn't ready for it to be this fast, honestly.
Right now you're starting to enjoy the great outdoors. At first, you screamed and cried when I put you on our grass, but now you'll sit happily on a blanket, absorbing attention from the neighbors' kids (If we go outside, I usually expect to hear the scream, "THE BABY'S OUTSIDE!") as I weed our yard.
This month, you also began climbing up the stairs. Now the big challenge is to teach you how to climb down backwards. You keep trying to go down headfirst, even with my demonstrations on how to properly go down backwards. It's like you're stuck in drive right now.
While you're walking with my help, you're still a little unsure about taking your first steps alone. Oftentimes now, you'll stand unassisted if there's something to keep your mind preoccupied. Otherwise it's "OH SHIT! I'M STANDING ALONE! HELP ME!"
You'll occasionally walk while holding one of my hands, but that's not very long and you tend to scream at me to give you my other hand. That's the reason why Momma is now stooped, her back shaped like a question mark.
Personality-wise, it's a little more trying this month because you're in a proto-tantrum stage. There's many things you want to do. Sadly, most of those things I don't want you to do (see the hurling yourself down the stairs complaint above). The funny thing is that in public or in front of people you don't know well, you're an angel. You're cool, calm and sweet. It's only when you're with me and/or Daddy, that the little demon comes out.
One of the baby books I've read said that it's a compliment -- that you feel secure enough with us to show us your true colors, instead of keeping all the shit inside of you and trying to be such an angel.
I suppose that's what family is about -- the knowledge that no matter how much of an asshole you can be (and this includes me too), someone will always love you unconditionally. So while it's kind of flattering, can you also cut me a little slack?
Love,
Momma
1 comment:
Happy birthday, BD!
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