Sunny Days in DC

Jack of All Trades, Master of 3-ish.

Love means never having to say, “Don’t put that in your mouth.”

on December 10, 2012

My mother recently asked me how I’m “finding” motherhood. When people ask me open-ended questions like that, I have a hard time determining what sort of answer they hope to get from me. “It’s…err…. well, there’s poop…” I tried.


*Pictured above: someone pooping.*

“No, I mean, do you think it’s hard?”

“Do I….? Is there someone out there who sails through this?”

I realize there are women out there who just ADORE being moms, and have arts & crafts ready for every age and stage of development… but my mom was more of a fly-by-the-seat-of-your-pants-and-use-a-lot-of-hyphens kind of gal. I don’t see myself being all that different.

For example, it wasn’t until I went to college that I realized some people have homes where each room has a color or theme. Do you know what my mom’s theme to her house would have been? “LOOK! COLORS!” She has art and antiques and a whole host of things that nobody has any business raising a child around… and yet, I don’t think I ever broke anything as a small child.

This past weekend, the hubs and I brought Max up to my mom’s house. While he was playing in her living room, I saw him reach for something… that would be a furniture staple that could, oh I don’t know, KILL MY CHILD.

I might be exaggerating. I can’t be sure. But legit, nothing good could possibly come from your child swallowing a staple. A super-powered spider, maybe, but even then you really just want to be BITTEN by one, not swallow it. Also, a super spider baby seems like he would be really tough to discipline; he’s just be shooting webs all over the damn house and swinging away from you while you’re trying to feed him boiled peas or something… I don’t know. My train of thought may have derailed and hit a small village there, but you get my point.

So, as I sit here in the chaos that is my living room, with papers strewn across my floor and a lazy cat peering up at me, I have to wonder, am I a bad mom for not keeping a neater house with color schemes, and for turning the tv on during the day, and for drinking hot chocolate while breast feeding? I mean, there are kids in India right now who are playing on giant piles of garbage, but some days you kinda feel like a failure for not ensuring that his onesie and socks are coordinated.

Or maybe I’m just tired. I could just be tired.

3 responses to “Love means never having to say, “Don’t put that in your mouth.”

  1. I don’t have kids. However. I’m pretty sure you’re rocking the motherhood thing. What kid DOESN’T want chocolate milk? Straight from the boob, all the better.

    • H. Stern says:

      Ha!!! Thanks! I figure, at the end of the day, if he’s still kicking, generally clean, and I can get a giggle, I’m not doing too shabby.

      …that might change once puberty rolls around. I might reconsider any offer from the circus at that point.

  2. ekgo says:

    Neil Gaiman said something about if your child leaves home at a reasonable age, you’ve done your job. I’m not sure colors have anything to do with that, but then, I don’t have kids so can’t be sure. However, hot cocoa probably DOES have something to do with that so you’d probably be better off if you drank that while breast feeding.

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