Saturday, October 22, 2005

Me, me, me!

Okay, so I know I started this little bloggity-doo-dah to keep far-flung-family abreast of Adrian's milestones and what have yous. But I am going to take this post and talk about me. And you can't stop me! (But if you're so inclined you can leave. No hard feelings. Except I'm watching you and I know who you are.)

Yes indeed. Adrian has been here for nearly a year now and I wake up on a regular basis with the thought: Holy shit. I'm someone's mom.
Now, I know how to do all those basic baby-care essentials thanks to YEARS of baby sitting and I have a pretty good idea of what a mom should be thanks to having a really great role model (hey ma!); but seriously. I'm someone's mother. I'm responsible for the socialization of another human being. I have to make sure that he eats and sleeps and wears a coat when it's cold outside. And a hat. Although getting Adrian to wear a hat is a full-on battle royale. He's under the impression that it's some kind of game: I put this thing on his head and he takes it off. We've played at this for 20-30 minutes before I give up, frustrated and ready to bang my head against a wall.
I'm not sure where I got this idea but I thought that when you were a grown-up you'd wake up one day and feel different. That's a big negative. And again, for some reason I thought being a mom would make me feel different. I feel tired, I feel stressed out, I feel awed as I watch Adrian grow and learn, but I'm still pretty much the same person. Minus the going out for a drink and a night on the town bit.
Also, you think I would have figured this out before now, but Moms don't get a vacation. Saturday? Sunday? Just two more days of the week where you feed, clothe, wipe noses and bottoms. There's still laundry, and dishes, and vacuuming and cleaning bathrooms. Except now it's American-Gladiator-style, because you're doing all of those things with a tiny person hanging off of your legs or arms.
Which is to say:
This is hard. This is work.

Hands down the most difficult job I've ever had.
So you'll have to forgive me if I get a crazed look when you ask me when we're planning on having another one.
Because, seriously? Two? Are you out of your mind?

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

Welcome to the club. It's funny how you don't see all that when you're the child.