Contemplating Motherhood

I always said I would be a good  no, a great mother if I ever had kids.

Well, I have one now, and I’m starting to think I might have not had a fucking clue what the hell I was talking about.

I don’t find myself rambling on non-stop to every ear willing to listen about my son’s sleeping habits, bodily functions, learning progress, etc. Of course, I tell them if they ask, but when people ask, “How’s the little one?” I am quite at a loss for words, and stumble around in my head frantically searching for the right words I’m supposed to say. My response is usually- “He’s good. He’s the cutest baby in the world. He’s a happy boy.” People look at me after I’ve said so, waiting for me to add more. What else is there to say? He’s a baby. He sleeps a lot and cries when he’s hungry.

Then there are the times my Babe and I are at home. Of course I read to him, which he seems to relish, perhaps because I do all the voices. I give him the recommended Tummy Time, despite the fact that he came out holding his head up and possessing of legs pretty much strong enough to walk on. We go for walks sometimes, during which I worry that the cracks in the city sidewalks are bad enough to cause shaken baby syndrome. I feed him when I’m supposed to, and play with him so I can see his adorable smile; but then I hear these women talking about how much they love babies and always want to hold theirs, never wanting to put them down. I put mine down. In fact, the only time I hold him is to feed him, read to him, and occasionally cuddle profusely with him. But what I wonder is: do all those women obsessed with their babies have maids? Because I have a house to clean, and a dog to take care of, and a yard full of flowers to take care of, and how the hell am I supposed to hold my baby all the time when I have all that shit to do?

I don’t look ahead and think to myself that, “Oh, hey! I’m going to want another one of these little papooses in a couple of years so this one has someone to play with, or so I have another baby to hold.”  I love him to bits, and I want him to grow up to be a strong, respectable man, but how could I possibly love another one when this one has my whole heart? Even if he did make me completely miserable the entire time he was growing inside me. And I already want him to be 2 or 3, so he can talk back to me and I can at least understand him.

I haven’t dropped him on his head, but neither do I gingerly hold him as if he might break the way my Rockstar does. I don’t like to see his sad face, but when he cries when he’s not hungry, I don’t immediately pick him up, and I tell him he doesn’t need to fuss, because I know he’s faking it. I know this, because during these times, I walk over to him and start singing “Somebody to Love” and his little fake cries turn into squeals followed by smiles. At least he has good taste in music.

Honestly, the only proof that I have at least one motherly bone in my body is the plethora of pictures that have filled up my phone and my Facebook wall.

I’m not even sure my Rockstar finds me to be motherly, since he asked me why do I have to cart the baby around all over the place. I just thought I was acclimating him to the general public. And I thought him being with me was better than leaving him with a babysitter….

I suppose I’ll not really feel like a mother completely until he gets old enough to actually call me “Mommy”. I guess if he believes it, then there’s no reason to doubt it.

 

Creepin’

I be creepin’….

I feel like this is or could be the title to a great hit song.

In this day and age, you ain’t nobody unless you been creeped on by some random acquaintance on Facebook.

Which means: I just made at least six people Somebody.

I promise when I sat down at my computer, it was with the only intention of writing at least three hard-to-come-by paragraphs for my novel that will be finished in about ten years. Only, I signed in to Facebook, and after clicking on several alluring ads for $17 dresses, I decided to see what my not-so-close virtual friends looked like before I knew them, or after I knew them, and what their dogs look like, and let’s not forget all those annoying Facebook babies. This is what I found out.

Some people should go back to their natural brunette hair color. (I am aware that I may be one of these “some people”.)

Some people look just a little bit better than they did last year.

Some other people looked a lot better last year.

There are just way too many damn infants on Facebook. Apparently the entire population of Minnesota and some of Wisconsin have nothing better to do than fuck like rabbits nonstop.

All of Facebook is nothing but a ruse. I once thought all those people posting pictures actually DID stuff. Now I realize they are just taking pictures nonstop of themselves in their very ordinary lives. Well, guess what, people?! I can do that too!

There are very few people who actually throw interesting-looking weddings. I’ve decided if ever I have another wedding, there will be mermaids, belly-dancers, a unicorn, a rodeo clown, and at least two pirates. (Preferably the Johnny Depp kind, not the Somali variety.)

I realize that people are probably starting to get tired of seeing me post a daily pic of my new puppy. Because I am most certainly getting tired of seeing pics of their babies.

Some people should most definitely not start their own Youtube channel, because nobody really cares where some people come from.

Damn, I’m harsh tonight. Sorry.

My Rockstar

In case you ever wonder what a Rockstar looks like to me…