Lessons: Part Two

7. You're probably doing something wrong.  I say that tongue- in- cheek, as it's something I think a lot of mothers feel: we must be screwing our children up somehow.  Yet, with no facetiousness at all, we should actually admit and validate-- yes, we probably ARE doing something wrong.  But the "something" is probably minor.  And unless you went to the Barnum and Bailey Circus School, you're likely not an able juggler.  I juggle as much as I can, yet I have had to make peace with the simple concept that there is always going to be some arena of parenting in which I could be doing more.  There have been a few nights Mabel hasn't gotten a bath, or that we haven't cleaned the wax out of her ears.  Or a few weeks in which she has eaten microwave organic pancakes three nights in a row.  I haven't been forceful or consistent enough in getting her to try and like new veggies-- some nights, after working all day, that battle is just too much.  I'm sure she's gone to day care in clothes that are too warm or too cool, and I know for a fact I have let her stand up in store carts-- even sometimes without Purelling the carts first.  Imagine the horror!  Mabel still has a bottle before bed at night at 18- months- old.  It is essentially her binky, as she was never a pacifier kid (despite our trying), and the bottle soothes her.  While I know she should be off it, I just can't break away from the total peace at night when she sits with her "buh- buh" for thirty minutes watching one of her shows, totally content and not making a peep.  This summer I vowed to take her to Story Hour at the library and never did.  We've given her French fries too many times when we shouldn't have.  I could keep going, but I have adopted a precept around relativity-- in the large scheme of life, how much is this XYZ thing going to affect her, if it keeps her/ us sane?  You can only do what you can do in the reality of everyday life.

8.  You might be let down sometimes.  While I can say without hesitation that 90 percent of what Mabel does mesmerizes me, there have been times she hasn't been so spellbinding.  When she was 2- months- old and lying in a bouncy seat for three hours, I was bored-- and a little let down with motherhood.  I felt wretched for even thinking it.  But as much as I loved Mabel, she wasn't all that interesting all the time.  I would crave the outside world, or wish she would just leap up from the bouncy chair and sing me a ditty.  Even now, in the midst of typical toddler derring- do--- when she will scale her high chair or break out in new "choreography"-- there are days or nights that just aren't exciting.  Toddlers get whiny.  They push our buttons and make us wonder, "Is that all there is??"  It's just quite lucky for us (and them, I suppose) that the next moment or day, they'll do something that knocks our socks off.  Don't feel like a total failure of a mother if you aren't enthralled with each moment of caring for your kid.

9.  You will obsess over sleep.  Before we had Mabel, there was much comfort in knowing that a sleepless night meant I could nap the next day.  With no such fortune anymore, I now obsess over making sure I get to bed early so that the break- of- dawn wake- up doesn't plague me the following day.  I don't always sleep well at all, but I am lamely tucked in bed by 9:30 every night.. and that usually includes weekends.  If you go out with friends at night, you will second- guess that third glass of wine because toddlers don't respect the hangover.  Mabel doesn't give a shiz if my head pounds-- she still demands I get off that couch promptly and take her outside to the porch.  You will find yourself sitting at a restaurant going, "If J and I go home now, and get in bed by 11, we will get 8 hours.  But that's if we leave RIGHT now, and then fall RIGHT to sleep in bed."  It's a stupid game.  Your body is going to sleep when it feels like it, but you'll still think you have some control.  Oh, and you will have at least two gruesome hangovers that will make you rue the day you ever partook in a beverage.

10. Some people won't "get" parenthood, but it doesn't mean they don't care.  Not all your relatives are going to baby- proof their homes, but they still love you and your kid.  Your brother might still plan a late dinner or social event and not get why you don't want to be out all- hours, but it's not that he is uncaring, ignorant, or mean.  He just doesn't get the full scope.  Did YOU get the full scope before becoming a mom?  I know I didn't.  Why WOULD non- parents really accommodate you, when you think about it?  Most people will not keep whole milk in their homes or have an arsenal of Sesame Street episodes on demand, but they will still invite you to stay at their houses and will still love on your kid like crazy.  You have to try not to think of the outside world as insensitive, and have to do your best to roll with the punches.  J and I have a mix of family and friends who are parents and non- parents.  Everyone is in his or her own current situation, and it's unique.  You have to just live in your own little world and not expect people to know its ins and outs.

11.  You, without a doubt, must promise you will still have a life.  I can't really say more than this:  if you give up your own pursuits, or don't spend time with friends, you will find yourself the needy and desperate mother of an 18- year- old who is going off to college, still making your child ride buckled up in the backseat, and emailing his or her prospective college roommates to see what they're like, and, subsequently, contacting his or her college professors to ask why he/ she got a B on the Econ paper.  Yup-- you'll be bat- siz crazy if you pour your whole being into momhood and forget other joys.

12. You'll feel the most indescribable but profound and radiant connection to your kid.  It's instinctual and basic, but it's ever- present.  While I have no regard for Martyr Moms, as I have blogged about before, I will agree that momhood is a gift that can't be paralleled... not because it is more special than some other gifts, but because it is so different.   When I haven't seen Mabel in a weekend, I have a visceral longing for her.  I can't help but squeeze and kiss and tickle her like mad.  One of my students said today that when 9/11 happened, his mom came to pick him up at preschool (yes, that is how young my now- junior and -senior students were then), not because she feared for his safety at the preschool, but because, in her words, she "just had to hold [him]."  Yup, I get it.  And when this boy told the story, I got goosebumps.  It's uncontrollable, and it seems implausible, but it is truly sensational.