Ten years ago I became a mom for the first time. I remember thinking I had my shit together, and that it was going to be no problem. Boy was I in for it. First off it was about all of four minutes before I was on the phone bawling to my mother, Will you please get back here before I do something to hurt her? I have no idea what the hell I am doingggggggg? Secondly, what is with those little baby socks? Do they make baby socks that stay on? Least of my problems I'd come to find out. She wasn't a sleeper, but she was a screamer. She ate like a champ, but what goes in... Her birth also coincided with the holidays, and her dad's busiest work time of the year, and living nowhere near family, there I was alone. The two of us. Me. Pretending like I had a clue how to click a car seat into a shopping cart. Or better yet, how to get the thing off and back into the car.
Well, we managed. She taught me how to be a mom. Some of my best memories are rocking her to sleep, listening to James Taylor, and reading to her long past the time she had fallen asleep. She's an avid reader today, and I like to think those nights had something to do with it. Her dad and I divorced this year, and I know it's been the hardest thing in the world for her. It kills me sometimes. Like that gut wrenching how could you do that to your child knife through the heart? But then yesterday she hopped into my car, and just matter of factly stated Mom, I'm so happy. She said it like three times yesterday. Mom, I'm so happy. And every time she said, I got that lump in my throat, like crap..I might start bawling like a baby, so hold it together lady. I got a bad ass push present for her birth, but I'd toss it down the garbage disposal, just to hear those words, Mom, I'm so happy. G-monkey, happy birthday beautiful, and thank you for the best ten year push present ever.
The hautes and the nautes of motherhood and beyond at Three Haute Mamas
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