I have a two-year-old boy.
The blog ends there. That says it all, doesn’t it?
No? Okay, how about this?
I have a two-year-old boy and a newborn daughter.
Voila! First blog post, complete!
Empathy? Check. I haven’t slept in 27 months.
Expertise? Check. They’re alive.
In reality, its 11:33pm on a Wednesday. I’m stuck in that hard place of “Do I go to bed and get up in an hour or wait the hour, feed Little Bear and then go to bed?” So, Les Mis soundtrack and blog it is. “I had a dream my life would be….”
Confession #1: I’m not a writer. No worries, I’m cool with it. I’m many things: wife, mother, sister, daughter, friend, teacher, perfectionist, type-A, steering-wheel-superstar… but my sister is the writer. Don’t believe me, when we’re finished here, go visit her blog: Missylouniverse. Luckily for you- I’ve got some time and some things to say, and alas, here we are.
Confession #2: At the top of this page it says “Grateful for Gummies” and I haven’t addressed that: be patient. I’m a little scatterbrained. We will get there, eventually.
Mommy-ing is hard, not news.
Mommy-ing is thankless and the most precious job in the world, back page news.
Mommy-ing is dirty, and silly, and difficult, and exciting and I-want-to-sleep-like-I-did-in-college: now we’re in the middle of the newspaper- the part Grandpa reads while he’s in the loo.
We all know these things, but do we take the time to share them other than the polite:
“Oh she’s so cute.
[she looks like a potato, they all do]
How is life with two?”
[I can’t remember what you just asked]
*blank smile* It’s great. He loves her.
[walk away, walk away, walk away]
So, here I am- to share what I’m too afraid to say when you ask me. For fear of being labeled as “not-cut-out for mommy-hood” when in reality, its…real.
Confession #3: I apparently cannot write a blog post in one sitting. Who was I kidding? More on that another time.
Confession #4: Wine. Actually, not wine. I’d love for my confession to be wine. Alas, I feel guilty for having said wine or any more than the “you can have 1 glass in a 2-3 hour period” or whatever they’re trying to tell me these days. At one point I read “As long as you don’t feel intoxicated its safe to breastfeed your baby.” Ummm… So I avoid it. Should I? Does Mommy-ness mean giving-up wine and company the first 6 months? I’ve lived without for this pregnancy- and the one + 6 months before, I’d live, but who wants to live life that way? (Join me on a tangent: I once went to a birthday celebration including winery tours; I was visibly pregnant. As in, “Can you believe that woman is here? I hope she’s not drinking the wine”-pregnant. Loved celebrating the friend, hated sitting next to the wine. I’d be a terrible addict of any sort.)
Confession #5: Sometimes I give my kid gummies. Ah-HA! There it is! An explanation. Now, in today’s mommy-society it is frowned upon to give your child anything that isn’t hand-picked-grown-in-your-own-backyard-and-blessed-by-the-moon but I give my kid gummies, and I’m happy about it. Granted, they are “organic” (can gummies really be organic?) but I’m not against some Gushers or Ninja-Turtle ones when we get there. We use gummies as a treat of sorts, though Bubba asks for them every day, for breakfast. (What do you think this is, sir? Where is your mother?) Therefore; I am Grateful for Gummies and the things that bring us joy, laughter and a moment of peace.
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