I wanted to tell you about all the amazing milestones you have reached this past month, and believe me there are many, but I’m drawing a blank as I reflect on this past month. Yes, you can now roll over with ease, we’ve started you on solid food after a rocky start – my apologies that you were our experimental dummy for a week or two there, you are finding your voice specifically at the wee hours of the am and you have meltdowns just about every night around 7. All of these are incredible milestones that I try to embrace fully when they happen so I can look back and remember these moments but I almost feel like every day is a milestone – each day you achieve a little bit something greater. I know, a little cheesy but I’m a mom now and it kind of comes with the package.
In the midst of this crazy new life, I’ve had some time to reflect on being a mother and watching you grow over these past months. One thought that springs to mind is a recent conversation that your Dad and I had with some friends of ours and they asked when we knew we were ready to be parents and when we decided, were we worried that we would feel that we would no longer be able to do certain things like travel and so on. I think your father and I can both agree that it’s everybody’s personal opinion when they think they’re ready – I don’t think anyone really wakes up and says “yes, today’s the day.” For me, I was ready for something more in life. I was tired of the mundane routine day after day. Wake up every morning at 5:30, turn on the news at 6:00, leave for the train at 7:10, arrive at Starbucks at 8:15 and buy a strawberry parfait, 10:20 break into strawberry parfait, 10:40 – 4:45 stare at clock, 5:05 catch train, 6:45 eat dinner, 6:45 – 10:00 watch tv, 10:15 go to bed, and do it all over again the next day. There were absolutely no surprises and everything was relatively in my control – it was safe. It was ok, your father and I could see a movie whenever we wanted, go to dinner anywhere, do anything. I decided to trade all that in for a life of uncertainty and chaos.
I will admit that I am absolutely terrified of you. I look at your sweet delicate little being and deep down I am incredibly scared of the unknown that surrounds you. At any moment you can scream bloody murder, spray crap over an entire room, cry endlessly for 5 hours straight but I enjoy this new way of life. I am enjoying the uncertainty and the ups and downs. I actually feel like I’m living life now. I’m learning to be ok with being uncomfortable 98% of the time and I truly feel that when you’re contemplating being a parent, that should be a question you ask yourself – are you comfortable being uncomfortable? You always hear people tell you having a child changes everything and sure you agree, sleepless nights and so on but I think it changes people differently and this is how it’s changing me.
This past month has been intense in amping up our house search and I find myself looking for the typical laundry list of items in a home: backyard, big kitchen, 4+ bedrooms but I also envision whether I see you learning to ride your bike in the driveway or hanging your artwork in the kitchen or walking down the stairs ready to go to your first dance. I try to imagine all these forseeable memories in the homes we look at and if I don’t feel these things then the home isn’t right. I guess time will tell if that perfect home is out there.
I am incredibly proud to be your mother thus far and I try to absorb every moment fully because everyday I am reminded by a stranger to enjoy these moments, “they never stay this small for long.” I tell myself these things everyday and even in the moments you break me down with your constant crying, I tell myself that a day will come when I will wish to be back at this moment despite the crying and frustration. I am already amazed at how fast time is flying and I’m terrified how fast the future will fly by. Stay young Miss O and try not to grow up too fast – your mother knows best.