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On Being Mommy

Once upon a time, long before I had a baby, before pregnant, I would say even before I was having baby thoughts, (although clearly I was having baby thoughts), I bought a domain name. Mommyunlikely.com. Don’t bother. There’s nothing there. I hold onto it, because I love it. Not that I’ve done a damn thing with it pre-mommy or post. My future as a mommy blogger remains tenuous. But hey, mommy, currently blogging. The shoe could be more comfortable than I think.

It’s the unlikely, really. I never thought I would have children. I curse too much. I don’t share well. I don’t even cook! (much.) I’ve never been particularly drawn to children. Nor they me. Not one to ooh and ahh. Limited fawning. I’m loud. I’ve never considered myself particularly maternal or warm. Not a natural motherhood fit. Not by all our societal Mommy-dearest, greeting cards, boo-boo kissing, cookie baking, apron wearing, Suzy-Q homemaking standards. Although, I do love me a good apron.

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So, they (he, children) are a new concept to me. Not that I didn’t have 10ish months (plus an agonizing week or so) to get acquainted with the idea. I did. But baby in your face, is completely different than baby kicking you in your ribs. Those 10 months, have been nothing intensity-wise to the last 3. Meeting my baby, feeding my baby, soothing my baby, laughing with him, poking him, staring at him for no good reason, learning to go places with a baby. Even wiping his butt. All of it is a complete adventure in the everyday.

For good, bad or otherwise, I’m his Mom. All those preconceptions aside. Because it doesn’t actually matter. I may be unlikely. My kid may end up in trouble for his colorful vocabulary, with absolutely no doubt as to where he heard that word. He will ingest more than his fair share of dog hair at an early age. He will be an adept urban chicken wrangler… as a toddler. I can see it now. Daddy may be the cookie baker in the family, but that doesn’t make me any less his Mom. We belong. That’s a natural feeling that snuck up on me. Came out of nowhere. Like it had always been. Not to be taken for granted. Its a privilege.

And it skews so many things. Big things. My outlook on money. On how I spend my time. On my dogs. And the not so grandiose. On what I grow in my garden. What I watch on TV and when. I’ve never been a fan of the “One *must* have children for a full life” mandate. That somehow your existence simply can not be complete without them. That’s shit. I’m confident I could have gone on just fine without this person. My life was pretty damn great before. It’s not that we were missing anything at all. He certainly represents a turning point. A change. A good change. One we can never go back from, and would never want to. It’s a different chapter. All the goodness and experience from those previous goes with us, only adding to this. We wouldn’t be us without all that, just as we wouldn’t be us now without him.

There is a point here other than I-love-my-baby sap. It’s something to do with identity. With expectations. With how you define family, and how it defines you. I know I’m looking at decisions I’ve struggled with for years with new eyes. I’m re-contemplating the things that scare me. Because this baby-having probably scared me the most. Hence my tucking it away as unlikely. But embracing that, facing that fear, questioning my own bullshit, so far that was just about the best idea I’ve ever had. Ever.

We’ve only just begun. My future as a mommy blogger remains uncertain. Perhaps even, unlikely. I am amassing my collection of unfortunate poop, pee and bodily fluid (mostly not mine, mostly) stories. I may have formed strong opinions on what represents a quality baby swaddle and what is hardly worthy of the title burp cloth. (Muslin, people. Muslin.) I’m not sure it necessitates its own domain name, however. Nor the abandonment of this one. Rather this is another, important, big, new, rewarding, facet of the same journey. It’s squished its way into what I would have said was already full. Not to the detriment of anything else. Except maybe the garden, this year. This whole scenario may have been unlikely. Once upon at time. But, I’m here to tell you, consider it a rousing endorsement for doing something – big or small – that scares you. And expect to see gushy-mushy posts about my kid from time to time.

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Comments

Tracy
Reply

I would expect no less.

dogsordollars
Reply

;)

Nicoleandmaggie
Reply

I never much liked children, but my own are different. (They also seem to have a halo effect on other kids– there’s a 2 year window around my kids’ ages in which I think other children are adorable.)

dogsordollars
Reply

Now that you mention it, I have suddenly found small children, especially those slightly younger or older than mine, much more endearing. The bleary eyed couple with brand new twins in the waiting room at the pediatrician almost brought me to tears. :)

cassadega
Reply

i’m so glad to see you embracing the entirely ‘gray area’ of motherhood. with all of it’s connotations and bodily fluids. you took it just like i thought you would, and i’m proud of you! plus, how can you deny those squishy little baby smiles and rolls??

dogsordollars
Reply

Oh the rolls! And the decided lack of a neck! Cracks me up!

Jenny N.
Reply

I love every word of this post. And I’ve been waiting to see gushy-mushy posts about the baby, so no worries here.

dogsordollars
Reply

Happy to oblige!

Miser Mom
Reply

My sister used to count (out loud!) reasons not to have kids. Some child drank milk and snorted it out his nose onto his plate, she’d say “193″. A colleague would tell her about missing work to take care of a sick child, and she’d just respond “194″. I think she was about up to 283 when she had her first of two daughters. Now we get regular updates about school performances and competitions the girls have been in.

dogsordollars
Reply

Out loud!? Ok, thats hilarious! She’s a harder convert than even me.

Tammy
Reply

When I was pregnant with my first child, an “acquaintance” of mine said, “Hmm. I don’t really see you as a mother.” Guess I cussed too much or something! It sure hurt my feelings, but my girls are now 14 and 17 and seem to be turning out fine, in spite of their mother! I think of myself as “unconventional”…

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