Tuesday, January 19, 2010

*mommy blog.

There seems to be an abundance of mommies around me lately, as my peers join the baby-making throngs, adding their genetic code to the world in terrific, nutty, miraculous combinations.

Not just any two people could make this, is all I'm saying.

mama hair.

I'm not sure if I'll ever be anyone's mommy. I'm in that sweet spot, somewhere after Bristol Palin but firmly before grieving my barren womb. Motherhood is a scenario that appeals to me, in a lot of ways, and terrifies me in a lot more of those same ways, and I have no doubt that if it winds up being not in my cards there will be parts of me that are befuddled and sad. But my particular happy delusion is that when one meets future-father-of-one's-children there is a spark of some sort, a nudge from the universe that says, "This one won't eat your young. Probably. We're 85% sure, and those are damn good odds these days."


There are some universal attributes to seek, I suppose, someone kind and either literally or metaphorically broad-shouldered. A touch ridiculous would help, in my case. Saner than I am, please, for the sake of these fictional offspring.

(If he's willing to referee diaper changes, LSis says, all the better.)

diaper ref.

I'm not sure exactly how it works, making the sort of space in your heart that's required to have children, but it makes me a trifle awed by people who've done it. I edited photos of tiny people who don't even belong to me today and almost had to stop and catch my breath.

bing oh.

Particularly because, despite my screechingly loud pleading, they refuse to desist in becoming disturbingly less tiny these days.

roll of the dice.

Something enviable happens to the mommies I know when they become mommies, something similar but just a touch different from what happens when they get married—it's an almost imperceptible shift in center.

mommy and me.

The automatic grounding of being tethered to another human, even as that human is throwing your life into a turmoil you couldn't have begun to fathom, predict, or prepare yourself for.

stella stare.

And they're better for it in the most fundamental of ways. Both more and less patient, more and less calm, less inclined to roll their eyes and more inclined to laugh.

pouty sleep.

These impossible moments are the ones they crouch in wait for, the blissful, sleepy ones that make them feel like they were made for making this person, for cherishing her and adoring her and teaching her things—primal, elemental things like what full feels like and what loved feels like and what cranky feels like and that HOLY CRAP SHE HAS LIMBS.


It can be startling.

So all my new mommies, remember: I'm watching you. I'm proud of you. I think you're all completely out of your minds. I'm being patient, and I'm taking notes.


Juarez Family says:
at: 4:37 PM said...

Aww that was so sweet and I LOVE the pictures. I can't wait to get home and squeeze those cheeks!

Ole Miss Mom says:
at: 4:43 PM said...

ALL those girls are SO cute! I love the one of Laura and looks like she is boxing!!! Guess it's in her blood!! :-)

What's Next? says:
at: 5:12 PM said...

Well said ....



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I am a work in progress. I perpetually need a hair cut. I'm totally devoted to my remarkable nieces and nephew. I am an elementary home cook and a magazine worker bee. (Please criticize my syntax and spelling in the comments.) I think my dog is hilarious. I like chicken and spicy things. I have difficulty being a grown-up. Left to my own devices, I will eat enormous amounts of cheese snacks of all kinds.