Touch

Some may say that it is an easy moment to remember, that moment when they became a mother. And for most, I would think it is fairly obvious.

“I gave birth to a child, hence motherhood”.

Thanks, Captain Obvious, for that. I don’t think I could have figured it out.

Or maybe, it’s that firm attachment to your pet. We started off with a dog, before progressing on to human motherhood. I am that little dog’s mother. Whether he likes it or not. Especially when he is peeing in places he shouldn’t. Which is all the time. Then I am one of those ‘Mummy-Monsters’.

Or maybe it is that first time your little person gets really sick. It’s like those mothering feelings just erupt out of you, you know exactly what to do.

Motherhood changes you, even if you don’t notice. It makes you less tolerant of your sick husband (partner). Sorry honey!! Must cook baby dinner/do baby laundry/wash baby/read to baby/etc etc etc. That little man has reached a much higher level of awesomeness than you. And will stay at that level. FOREVER. So no more asking for egg on toast.

I digress…

Motherhood is this total mystical, spiritual, wellspring of eternal knowledge, ‘I am all knowing’, freakin’ crazy amazing thing.

Right now, my own mother is visiting me. And she is sick.

As a new mother, here are the things I can’t help but do:

1) an ever present glass of water

2) ‘The best question ever… “Is there anything you need??”

3) Speak in a soothing voice

4) Sway back and forth. By myself. On a separate surface than she…

5) Look worried and impose that worry on everyone else.

6) “Would you like some tea???”

It is really amazing how much stereotypical ‘mom’ came out of my mouth during my conversation with  my sick mother in her darkened bedroom.

I stood up from the bed, bent over and kissed her on the forehead, while my free hand soothingly stroked her brow and automatically tucked her hair back. Apparently this is something I have been doing for my whole life, that is how casual it felt.

What was this!?!? This automatic gesture? Where did this come from? Was it in the manual?

No, my sweet mothers, it is just motherhood. We all have it, whether we use it on our dogs, cats or delicious babies. But how funny to use it on your own dearest mother.

Dearest Mother, please get better….

xoxo a.m.

Hydrated

Superbowl is always a good time.

At half-time, my son put on quite the show. There was dancing, hand waving, some flailing and a few interesting moves involving ‘up and down’. A crowd of adults gathered around him, egging him on with some synchronized clapping and a few cheers.

After half-time, it was time for a quick bath at Gramma’s and a pj change. But for some reason, post half-time show, the bath was not a good idea. The getting naked part was though! V was so happy to strip down to his diaper. and also to just stare at the water filling the tub. And throw things into it. But actually get into the tub?

No. Way. In. Hell.

Every attempt I made to lower him into the water was met with his legs retracting and heading directly for my waist. ha! It was rather funny! I tried about 5 times and with each attempt, his shrieks got louder and louder until Grandparents ran into the bathroom with wide eyes, wondering what on earth was going on.

I settled for a bum-rinse. Good enough.

My Mum walked in while I was trying to diaper him while he was standing. Let’s just say I am not a pro. I am so not a pro that my Mother said “Hmmm, let’s just see how long that lasts”.

Well, it lasted pretty long. I was feeling a wee bit smug.

And then, around 1:30 am, he woke up crying. I think he was overtired from the party, the dancing and the nude streaking he did through the living-room.

I picked him up, snuggled him until he calmed down and cosied him up in his crib.

Walking back into our bedroom, I felt a little damp. I reached down to my stomach and pulled my damp tank top away from my skin. My fingers didn’t even understand what I was touching. I climbed into bed and snuggled up to the dog and the Big M.

My brain woke up about 2 minutes later and said “Jaime, that is urine.” I sat up in bed and pulled my top up to my nose and inhaled. Didn’t smell like pee. Didn’t smell like anything.

But I knew it was. And so, well, I got out of bed. Woke V back up. Changed him. Put him back to bed. Smelled my tank top again (Why?! Why!!!). Changed out of it. And then back to bed.

So. What is up with me smelling my pee-soaked top? And what is up with it smelling like nothing??

I must have an incredibly well-hydrated child.

Naptime for Mummy

Sometimes Mummies need naps.

Now Mummies, I know its hard to remember, especially when you are facing mountains of laundry and sticky surfaces everywhere. Handprints on your TV screen and all around the edges of your coffee table. Milk stains and banana smears on your (stupidly) non-leather furniture. Many many many very small toys scattered everywhere. Dirty toilets. Your husband’s (or domestic partner’s) socks littering the house.

But.

(and this but is very important)

But, you have to, for the love of God, sit down and put those feet up. Or you will literally wear those feet of yours right down to the quick.

Home with V the other day, my parents (who are visiting from Canada) went golfing and V went upstairs for nap-time right after they’d left.

After I put him down, I walked past my bedroom and happened to notice my bed eying me suggestively from the doorway.

“Sleep with me… sleeeeeeeep with me. I want you to,” it seemed to say. I just couldn’t resist those bedroom eyes, stripped down to my underwear, threw my clothes on the floor and crawled in.

20 seconds after snuggling my head into every pillow on the bed, I was out. And I remained out for 2 1/2 hours. Mummy-hood. Tiring.

I was so surprised when I woke up hours later. And damn did I feel good! Thanks, King-sized bed, for that little afternoon delight. I couldn’t even remember the last time I’d taken a nap.

It made me think that I really need to make the time for these little things and the laundry can go and ‘eff’ itself. And the fingerprints can as well and M can pick up his own damn socks and clean that f-ing toilet too.

Chatting with my mum in the kitchen later that night, she mentioned something to me.

“Men always seem to think that women can just go go go and never stop. And they never notice when a little assistance would make things so much smoother”. (Or something like that)

And it is true.

So Men, those wives of yours, those mothers of your children, help them find the opportunity to put those feet up. Take a nap. Take a bath. It helps us not only retain our sanity, but also have the energy to do nice things for you in return… Like bj’s… (Ha!! just kidding, no-one who’s married has sex anymore…you know that!). More like back rubs and sweet kisses. I know you want those sweet kisses….

xoxo a.m.

(for some sweet He-Man related artwork, click the above picture)