My First Mother's Day

Today I was telling my husband what I want to do on Mother's Day.

It is, after all, my first one.  It's like a rite of passage, being loved on that special Sunday when there are flowers and jewelry blanketing the public like sky. I suppose that in that moment, I thought I deserved to relax, to be paid attention to.  But the truth is, that's not what it's all about. I don't want to lay on the couch and watch Scandal. I don't want to get a massage. I don't even really want to sleep in and miss the look on my baby's face when she wakes up happy, standing up in her crib like a big girl, bouncing up and down to get to me.  I suppose I am a mother because all I really want is to be with her.

Don't get me wrong - it's been awhile since I've slept late.(Understatement of the year. Mamas, am I right??)  And at the very least, I will take my husband up on his offer of hanging with the baby while I go for a run all by my lonesome with earphones and no specific mileage in mind - and then take a long, hot shower after.  I am human, you know. But mostly, I just want to strap the baby into her stroller or car seat and show her stuff.

Flowers, aquariums, zoos, parks, picnics, trees, all manner of Spring and play. Her face as she discovers a new texture, the air on her face - this is what I want to spend my time looking at.  Olivia Pope, I love you, but you're just not as amazing as that ten month old little girl.

So on Sunday, I'll be right here with my baby. I don't need jewelry or sleep or chocolate. I just need baby giggles and snuggles, gummy smiles, shaky steps and a crawling munchkin zooming across the room to me. My first Mother's Day - and all I want to do is be a Mom.

I've Made a Decision and It's Going to Make Disney Mad

I'm the first time mom of an 8 month old and I've made a decision; I just don’t want her to love Disney princesses. Don’t get me wrong. I was a HUGE Cinderella fan as a child. Something about the idea that  your dreams could come true if you wished hard enough, that if you were a good person, good things would happen to you, drew me in. For a good year, I watched that movie every single day when I got home from school with a bag of nachos and some heated Cheez Wiz. (Listen, my diet is not the issue here.) It was the first “I’m enjoying myself by myself” ritual I can remember and one that resides happily in my heart.

But Cinderella was a weakling. She couldn’t get herself out of a bad situation, could not rise above the poverty line without magic and a man to save her.

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And let’s not stop there. Ariel gives up her actual identity just to be with a man who does not even recognize her. I mean, with the whole scene of her singing and looking at him longingly with her impossibly big eyes as he lays there, you would think her face would be burned into his consciousness.

Snow White takes it upon herself to clean the dwarfs’ house before she’s even met them, because that’s just what women do. Sleeping Beauty can’t possibly wake herself up. Little Red Riding Hood is a stupid girl who cannot look out for herself or foresee any danger in her future. She’s can’t even tell that her grandmother is not her grandmother but an actual wolf, a disgusting, feral wolf who probably smells like wolf and can’t even bake a good pie. These women are not strong. Their stories do not present a world in which my daughter will be able to see herself taking care of herself, being strong and independent, being her without a him, without magic, without the mercy of a huntsman who, of course, is the only one who can spare her life.

So, how do I teach her about the lessons that matter from those stories - mercy, love, belief in the good of the world - without her subconsciously grasping onto the absolute weakness and inability to be self-sufficient that many of these princesses represent? After all, it’s not all bullshit. Just the parts about what women do.

Leaving My Daughter With Someone Else - Will She Freak Out?

The question all working parents face: Will my kid freak out if I leave her with someone else?

The nerves that accompany this question are like little germs making their way to a host, quietly spreading their negativity and malice. As if you don't already feel nervous about a million and one things concerning this little human (Does she feel warm? Are those pjs too small on her now? Is she going to choke if I give her a Cheerio?), now you wonder if she'll feel abandoned when you leave her at day care. You ask the woman there not to let her see you walk out the door, you picture all manner of crumbling, red, forlorn, screaming baby face for an hours long stretch while you - gasp! - enjoy your job. You're so selfish, mom. You're so selfish, dad.

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The platitudes and advice from others come ferociously.

"It will be good for her."
"She needs to socialize."
"She'll adjust after a couple of days."

All well meaning, and probably true, but does that stop you from irrationally telling yourself that she's going to hate you well beyond her teenage years, not invite you to her wedding and write memoirs about her self-involved, pathetic jerk of a parent? Hell no.

The truth is, you won't know if she'll freak out until you do leave her there, and you can't NOT leave her there if you want to keep your job, and you have to keep your job if you want to buy her pjs that fit and keep her in Cheerios. Just know we all understand, mama (or dada). You're not alone. We're all worried about this scary, gut-wrenching, necessary milestone called The Babysitter.

UPDATE: Tomorrow is the day. Aside from her food, I have all of my little bird's stuff packed up for daycare. I have, intellectually, come to terms with the fact that this is good for her, that she will need to be around other children, that I am lucky to not have to be on-site to teach five days a week, that this is a way for her to learn to interact with others. I totally get it.

But am I still dreading the drop off?  You bet.

UPDATE #2: Dropped her off today and cried after in my car.  How could I not? When I called to check in, I was told she cried the first 20 minutes or so and then was fed and happy for the rest of the time. I guess this is harder for me than it is for her!