For example: the first time I took Gabe into a store by myself when he was a few weeks old. From the outside I'm sure it just looked like a woman taking her baby out of the car and into the store. But on the inside, I felt a bit like a little girl playing mommy with her doll. I felt like I had a big sign over my head flashing in neon "Rookie!" I must've checked a half dozen times to make sure I had the pacifier, a burp rag (make that two burp rags in case of emergency), a diaper (make that two diapers in case of emergency), baby wipes, an extra outfit, changing pad, blanket...I think I put pretty much the entire contents of the diaper bag into my purse. Would've just been easier to put my wallet into the diaper bag! I worried that I would trip and drop Gabe. I wondered what I'd do if he started screaming in the middle of the store and I couldn't calm him down. Up until then, Bret and I had gone out together with Gabe, so I figured that if he was inconsolable, at least I had a buddy to share my public embarassment. But the first time alone in public with Gabe, I felt self-conscious and suddenly very aware that I was a mother. And even if I didn't feel like I knew what I was doing, others would look at me and assume I did.
Another example: the first few times someone asked me about Gabe's preferences. As in: "Does Gabe like tummy time?" or "Does Gabe like having his diaper changed?" I had experienced his reactions first hand (see previous posts regarding tummy time and Gabe's thoughts thereon) but when someone asked me about his preferences, it was a reminder that I was being asked because they assumed that as his mother, I would know these things. What I felt like saying was: "<shrug> I don't really know, I just met him too."
Well yesterday I had another of these surreal moments. I had decided to wash Gabe's stuffed elephant, Mr. Oly Font, because he smelled like spit. Nice. So into the washer goes Oly, and out comes puffy stuffing all over every piece of clothing in the load and Oly with a leg injury:
And my first thought is: "Oh I'll just sew that up."
And then my next thought is "I'm totally a real mom right now! I'm gonna perform my first surgery on my kid's stuffed animal! That's such a mom thing to do!"
This excitement wore off a little as I spent the next 10 minutes cleaning up the stuffing stuck to the clothes in the load so it wouldn't clog the dryer vent.
But still! I'm very excited about this rite of passage of being a Stuffed Animal Nurse (with apologies to Oly for the sacrifice he had to make to get me here).
3 comments:
Oh girl, that is so cute. I would definitely say you are a real mom and not a fake one. I miss those diaper bag days. And wipes, I miss wipes.
Oh, the things you do for your kids. That probably won't be the worst of it, but fortunately, it won't be the best of it, either. And just wait until Gabe can talk! You will find yourself doing things you didn't know (or really want to know) how to do. But a real mommy does them! I love it that your first thought was to just sew it up!
That is so funny about the diaper bag and your first solo trip to the store--I was the same way! 'Everybody's watching me; they know I'm new at this. Oh, PLEASE don't start crying!"
GA was 5 months old (I think) when Luke was comfortable enough to take him out to a restaurant. "You have to take him out if he starts crying" (We didn't/don't want to be one of those parents who let their kid scream. And I would be the one to take him out because who else can calm baby better than mommy.) Needless to say, he didn't cry, scream or fuss.
I realize I'm a mother every time I change GA's diaper. It's totally disgusting, but somebody has to do it. And I love him so much that it doesn't bother me.
And when he smiles and laughs at me, it makes it all worth it.
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