Mama-Come-Lately

Over the past week, the Boo has been issuing declarations, usually after a period of what I can only describe as intense quiet. Herewith, a list.

During an episode of Thomas and Friends:
– When the steam stops, the train stops.

After we made a couple of mini books, bound with safety pins:
– If we take out the pins, no more book.

At the kitchen sink:
– Some water is good, some water is yucky.

Also at the kitchen sink:
– Fast is good. Slow is bad.

Always thinking, this one.

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Flowers aside, I don’t go in for Mother’s Day all that much (though I am looking forward to weeping over whatever my kid makes for me at school). I do, however, like to use the day to navel-gaze about what I’ve learned in the last 2.25 years. Herewith, my list for your amusement.

1. I loathe washing bottles. And yes I’m still washing bottles because…

2. I get off on being able to give my kid what he needs, whether it’s a new pair of flip-flops or another month of bottles because he’s just not ready to give them up.

3. My mistakes will not permanently harm my kid. I once made him cry because I yelled at him as he was about to grab a cup of scalding coffee. And I’d do it again tomorrow.

4. Having less free time makes me better at spending it well. Sometimes it’s chopping veggies that floats my boat, sometimes I just collapse back into bed, but when my kid goes down for a nap, I make the minutes count.

5. Staying home with the kiddo has turned me into a person who likes chatting with the neighbors despite being introverted.

6. That thing about getting dressed in non-stretchy clothes every morning even if you’re not leaving the house? Just doesn’t work for me.

7. I firmly believe that the garbage man should not be allowed to see me without makeup. You’d understand if you could see how fabulous he is as he waves to us every Monday morning whilst executing a flawless three-point turn in a behemoth of a truck.

8. All parents should be given as much kindness as possible because you can’t always tell when they’ve had a rough day with their kid. Compassion goes a long way on days like that, believe me.

9. I need my mom friends, to whine with, to laugh with, to shake my head with.

10. I’m so much better than I thought I was. More patient, inventive and fun. Able to claw my way through a day on very little sleep. Willing to let someone puke on me for hours because I know they need me to hold them. I can change a diaper like a goddamn ninja. If this sounds like bragging, that’s because it is — and more moms should do it.

And because this blog goes up to 11…

Nothing has ever made me as angry as celebrity anti-vaxxers, and nothing will give me as much satisfaction as seeing them go down in flames.

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It started with this:

J is for jellybean, I would say. Then I realized the poor kid had no idea what a jellybean was. Also, Easter is coming, and I feel that an important part of my parental duty is to prepare him thoroughly for the garden of delights he’ll find in his basket. In other words, get him hyped up.

I tried to explain them in terms he’d understand: “They’re sweet, like chocolate.” The Boo was unimpressed and asked for chocolate. “The next time we go to the store, we’ll get some jelly beans.” He remained placid. To him, going to the store means a ride in a cart and maybe some stickers. None of it is nearly as exciting as running in a circle (our new favorite game now that the big baby gate is down).

As promised, I procured a small packet of Jelly Bellies during our next grocery trip. At home, I waited for the Afternoon Crabs to come skittering in with their whining and drama and penchant for pinching. Then I pulled out the packet with a flourish, tore it open, and let the Boo select a bean.

He looked at it with suspicion, but ate it and accepted another. This one, though, was greeted with a squinty face and his trademark, “Don’ like it!” He was looking for somewhere to spit it out, so I did the classic Mom thing and offered my hand. I gazed at the mangled pale pink confection in my palm and chuckled, wondering how this small thing had offended my child.

I sat down to eat the rest of the packet. I’m not crazy about jelly beans but I do enjoy the occasional Jelly Belly and after all, someone had to eat them. I may have emitted a small sigh as I poured a few onto the counter (I like to figure out what the flavors are before they go in my mouth. Also, they’re pretty.)

The Boo came over, asking/demanding to be picked up. Once in my lap, he asked for the packet. Then the real fun began, because he wanted to feed them to me. Quickly.

And so that’s what we did for the next 20 minutes. He’d pick up a bean from the counter and try to shove it in my mouth. I’d make a ridiculous face and say, “still eating!” He’d open his mouth wide, tongue out — his way of saying, “show me!” I’d happily oblige and the giggling would ensue. Inevitably, beans were dropped and went spinning across the hardwood, so I’d put him down, he’d collect them, squealing the whole time, and hop back up with me. Then he’d feed me another one, wiggling with delight the whole time.

Best $1.69 I ever spent.

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