Mothers’? Mother’s? Or is it not possessive at all? Anyway. I know it’s made up. I know it’s twee. I know that Hallmark, chocolate manufacturers and day spa operators have unduly profited off our hard earned dinero today. But I don’t care. It gives me an excuse to be cosseted, and more importantly, to pontificate on the instant blog, so don’t be a hater, mmkay?

Piglet, this is mostly a letter to you. You turned seven months old today, and my, what a wonderful age; is there anything sweeter than a still wee but infinitely more self-aware and engaging infant? You are portable! We can sort of/kind of take you places, like today! You went to our favorite local diner. I didn’t have the balls to take you for a “true” NYC brunch at, say Sarabeth’s, where we would have had a grotesque wait and it would have taken a while to eat our brunch. Translation: I didn’t want to go somewhere that I would have had the expectation of a wonderfully relaxing time. Hee! The down the street diner was good enough, so we could scarf down our eggs and try to guzzle our coffee while it was still warm, all the while trying to keep you entertained with a laminated menu and trying not to wince too much when you’d periodically shriek with happiness.

I adore you. Really. For all my skepticism about our over-the-top culture of “motherhood as self-annihilation,” I sometimes wonder if parenthood isn’t the most underrated thing ever. It’s not without its anxieties and attendant moments of paralyzing fear and guilt and regret, true, but why don’t we spend more time talking about how much fun it is? Every day brings at least one moment where you honestly think your heart is going to burst out of your chest with overwhelming emotion. You might not get to every last one of your chores, or clean out your inbox, or even get to pee before noon – but you’re a parent. Someone’s whole world, at least for a sweet, fleeting moment in time. And you will never again be alone in your life. Not in a creepy, attachment-theory, never letting your kids out of your sight kind of way, but in the sense that you are forever changed. You carry your child’s presence with you everywhere, and if you’re lucky, you will be a better person for it. 

I know I’ve only been doing this parenting thing for like five minutes, but I don’t know…I feel good about it. Maybe some ginormous, fugly shoe is about to drop? But consider. I’ve been back at work for a couple of months, and you’ve been coming along to daycare, commuting with me all the way downtown. Unfortunately, you’re just aware enough now that you don’t sit in stunned silence throughout the subway ride, and sometimes you freak out a little…the other day you managed to get one arm free of the Beco and slap me silly all the way home. Nice. You love daycare now, which is such a relief! And you’re still nursing. It can get a little crazy sometimes, with having to run down for feedings and pump every day, but I’m glad we’ve kept it going so far. You can sit up by yourself now for ages – you started a few weeks ago, just out of the blue! Your hair is getting dark and thick again, and it curls around your ears deliciously. We have a photo shoot with a fancy photographer in a few weeks and I’m so pumped to dress you up and get some beautiful pictures! We’ve spent lots of time together while daddy’s had to go on business trips and stay out late for client stuff, and we actually do pretty awesome on our own. Helps that you’re sleeping so beautifully – thank you for that!! 

* * *

And now, in honor of the day, enjoy the words of some far more talented writers.

What Do You Give the Developing World for Mother’s Day?

Advertisements