While on our mini-vacay, A-boy got to meet some cousins. First we stayed with one of my best friends and her husband where we got to hang out my friends' 2 yo. The two played so well together, and we were able to maintain some semblance of our normal schedule as nap time was still a sacred part of the day. Then we went to a hotel by my sister and brother-in-law's house. They had a sweet little girl three weeks ago and were having a baby shower this weekend to celebrate. Little Baby G is not much fun for an almost 1yo boy yet, but I sure enjoyed my time with her. She slept the whole time. Unlike my little bundle of Sweaty Baby Boy, who is currently making squeaky noises as he violently chews his pacifier, shaking his head and periodically screeching in defiance of his cloth prison.
When I said I wanted kids, this scene never actually crossed my mind. My kid would not be the one screaming and making everyone miserable in the grocery store/airplane/car/hotel. I surely wouldn't stop wearing makeup, doing my hair, or forget to brush my teeth in the morning.
My parenting chapters would be just as glamorous as my first 26 years.
This chapter of my life may not look glamorous on first glance. When I became a mom almost a year ago, I began to ascribe to a different type of glamorous. The days of taking a shower alone have long been replaced by the thrill of watching my kid grow from being bathed in the kitchen sink to crawling around at my ankles as I wash my hair in the morning. The once sacred, private time of using the restroom is now a family affair as I prepare my child to use a big boy potty via gradual exposure to the wonders of his very own plastic baby potty. Once, I would spend my nights downtown with friends drinking fruity drinks and dancing both the night and my cares away. These night are filled with nighttime nursing, tangled baby legs, and a constant awareness of my infant sleeping next to me. Tonight, regenerative, restorative sleep has been replaced by slowly bouncing my Sweaty Bundle of baby to sleep in what seems to me the most unbearably humid hotel lobby in the state of Florida while listening to the cooking channel and the front desk phone ringing off the hook.
Someone might look at me, bouncing my Cry Boy up and down, limbs flailing about and wonder "is all that worth it?"
On one hand, I'm paying through the nose in hours of sleep and the Americanized version of beauty and peace. On the other, I'm filled up to overflowing with baby smiles, hugs, and laughs and new experiences that make me remember the beauty that I once saw in this world as a young child.
So is it really worth it? My youth? Freedom? Sleep? Beauty? Former glory and glamour?
Some days I might pause before answering. Tonight, I have the clarity to see the forest through the trees, so without a hesitation, I say absolutely. When I got pregnant, an old friend said to me "have fun having no adventures for the next 18 years of your life." Well, friend, you were wrong. This is the most wonderful/painful/awesome/sweaty/rewarding "adventure" of my life. I wouldn't trade it for the world.
Happy Living :)
