Monthly Archives: October 2009
I want more…
I want one more kid – specifically a little girl.
But you just had a kid. You crazy!
Yes, this is true. A few months ago, I responded to a post in my online due date club by saying that I wouldn’t want another one until at least 2011. Heck, when I was giving birth, the thought did cross my mind (multiple times) to never do it again.
But I love kids and have always wanted at least two. And I love my son. I love having a son.
But I’ve recently had this overwhelming desire for a daughter.
I look at little girl clothes and feel all verklempt. I hear about mommies-to-be expecting daughters and feel a tiny, tiny twinge of jealousy. The other day I actually got teary-eyed.
Maybe it’s postpartum hormones.
Or maybe it’s that urge to have a kid that matches you in gender because then you feel that they can truly relate to you in that way.
Don’t get me wrong, sons can relate to their mothers and daughters don’t always relate to their mothers. But, there are some things that Baby E will never truly understand from my perspective simply because he’s male (barring any future transgender issues).
Maybe I just want a daughter so I can attempt to mold her into the type of woman I want to be. That right there is a bad set-up, my friend. Chances are she’d rebel against me even harder simply because she wouldn’t want to be her mother’s clone.
Or maybe I simply want a complete set – one boy, one girl.
Whatever my inner reason, I know it’s definitely too soon for another babe. So I’ll just go stare into the bright, bright eyes of my current bundle of joy when he wakes up (hopefully not for a few hours though) and be grateful that he chose me to come through.
I got an award y’all!
I’d like to thank Nadirah of Nad and Zara Take On the World for
I’m excited to know someone else in the blogosphere finds my musings interesting (Of course, those who don’t haven’t even made it this far in this post so that means you, dear reader, find me interesting too). This means I must not lapse into unplanned blog hiatuses too often or I’ll have no one finding me interesting.
Now, I’m off to confer this award on some others.
I have been incredibly lucky to have my mother stay with me for four weeks to help me with Baby E. She was a much needed source of babysitting, home-cooked meals and overall mothering.
She was also the source of some new mother angst.
Do you know who the biggest critics of mothers are?
Other mothers – particularly their own.
It seems that once you become a mother you never stop being a mother – not with your own kids, not with your grandkids, not with your siblings’ kids, not with that tantruming toddler in the supermarket, etc. Whether or not we actually express that mothering urge, I’m willing to bet that its always there.
Mothers have the tendency to want other babies mothered in the ways they would do it. I think this is because consciously or unconsciously we want to prove that we are good mothers – that no matter what, we didn’t truly eff our kids up. I’m willing to bet that feeling’s even worse when your daughter rejects your mothering advice. It’s the reason for the common response, “Well, you turned out okay…”
So, when my mother would say things like, “Make sure you do x, y, and z,” I would respond with an eye rolling, “Baby E doesn’t need x,y,z” or “Of course I’ going to do x,y, and z because I actually know what I’m doing!” It got to the point where I would get this vague feeling of irritation at any piece of her advice whether or not the advice was good. I realized that this was because I felt she didn’t think I was a good enough mother – that she didn’t trust me to make good decisions about Baby E. Thus began my complaining.
– I’m not incompetent, you know!
– We did survive six weeks together before you got here, you know!
– I was just about to do that, you know !
– Mother! I know!
But, I know she does what she does and says what she says out of love for me and Baby E. I know she can’t help but be this way since we’ve lived so far apart for so long. After all, when I left Barbados I was only sixteen. She hasn’t really had the chance to mother the adult me very often. When we get together she tries to make up for lost time.
So, I sigh and remember that despite my irritation she is the one that realized Baby E had cradle cap when I thought it was just dry skin and that no matter what she did differently with me I’m a relatively happy and healthy adult.
Of course she’s probably just waiting for the day when I finally say to a grown up Baby E, “Well, you turned out okay…”