No More Wire Hangers…

You know how it is when you get a new car … when you step foot in it for the first time and you say to yourself “this car … it’s going to be different… it’s always going to be this clean. I’m not going to get the crumblies in the crevices… I’m going to take my fast food trash in every time I get out of the car … I’m going to wipe my feet before I smudge up the pristine floormats.” Inevitably, four months later, my car has bugsplat smothered on the windshield … sticky coated change in the cupholder … and that new car smell has dissipated from the air. I liken the new car experience to having a babe.

Prior to pregnancy, there was not a woman I knew who hadn’t uttered the words “My child will never do that …” because of course, you think that like everything else in life you can control your child. Then, whilst being with child, I would think, “I’m not going to miss a moment with this baby … I will live in the now … I will always put the babe first … I’m not going to get stressed about child-rearing… I will never lose my cool”. And finally, four months post babe, I find myself having Faye Dunaway moments in which I tell Barrett, a defenseless little boy who knows not what he does, that he needs to stop crying because it’s not that bad or he needn’t take a break every 10 seconds while eating to check out the surrounding scenery because we are on a schedule or my favorite, he needs to settle down and take a nap. I find myself in a mental “no more wire hangers state” at the end of a 6 hour no-nap, fussy baby session and I realize that much like the dream of a perpetually clean car, for me, being a perfect parent is out of the question. So, I ask myself, “Am I a bad mother?”.

As children, we believe that our parents are teaching us … constantly … that they are giving us rules, making us do things we’d rather not do, and forcing us to do the worst things {naps, eating our veggies, washing our hands}. As adults, as parents, I believe we find that although we are preparing our children, they are also teaching us. Barrett has already taught me that I have to live more spontaneously, that I can’t control every minute, that I do not possess the power to have everything go my way. He’s reminded me that I can be selfless; waking up when he needs me, standing up when he’s fussy (even though I’d really rather be sitting on the couch), giving up foods I love so he can have a better quality of life. He’s reminded me that a smile can change everything, that a tear can stop the world and that sometimes, you just want to be held. It is a true miracle in life that something so small can continuously teach you something so big.

Just four and a half months ago, I would run many an errand on a whim. Now, each time I take a trip, I’ve got Barrett in tow. He’s a pretty good little traveler and we enjoy our time in the car listening to hits including “Little Liza Jane”, “The Circle Game” and “Three Little Birds”. The other day, I ran over to Village Pointe to check out the fresh finds at Pier One. I walked around the store, picking up items left and right and ultimately bought nothing and exited the store. I enjoyed the fresh air and delighted in the sunshine as I sauntered down to Z Gallerie. As I walked into Z Gallerie … it hit me. Something was missing. I had left Barrett in Pier One. OH MY GOODNESS. I turned around and rushed back to Pier One, walking around the store {they put people in jail for this, right?}… I reached in my purse to pull out my phone … it hit me once again…OH MY GOODNESS. I had not brought Barrett. Barrett was home with daddy and I was officially coo coo for cocoa puffs. I could hardly believe that I had actually believed I would a)forget my baby in a store and b)think I had my baby with me when he was safe and sound at home but why should I be surprised. For all of Barrett’s short life, I’ve been the one who feeds him, who stays home with him, who’s supposed to be one of his people… why wouldn’t I feel a sense of panic when we’re apart?

I am here to tell you, it is true, being a mom is the hardest job I’ll ever do. This is not to say that people who aren’t moms don’t have hard jobs… but all other jobs are measurable. I constantly wonder if I am doing enough. Like, if I were being graded, what marks would I be earning? Would I get an A in diapering, a C+ in napping and a D in housewifery … would I even be passing? Each day I feel Barrett steal a little more of my heart with his big eyes and his need for my guidance. I can only hope that Barrett never compares me to Mommy Dearest. Hopefully I can be a better Barrett owner than car owner. I mean, if Barrett turns out to be anything like my vehicle, he’ll be dirty, crumbly and have scrapes and bruises from running into grandma.