Three things motherhood has taught me

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Paulphoto.jpgI write a lot of snarky things about motherhood because that's just my style: you won't often catch me writing sincere, sappy things about having a kid, mostly because that's not something I'd want to read, much less write. But this weekend I was home alone with the baby and for once we had a respite from both illness and teething, so it's been a fun bonding time, forcing a bunch of mushy thoughts to the forefront of my mind. So here they are:

1. It is pointless to plan or worry too much. I learned this the days I was having the baby and every day that followed. I can prepare a certain amount but I can't worry the future right. Fortunately, much the way I'm happy that I'm not a person who is too much of a germaphobe because it'd be exhausting worrying about all the dirt the baby ingests every waking hour of the day, it's just easier to think about the big picture. The baby is wanted and loved. He has more love than he knows what to do with. Ultimately that'll make a bigger difference than whether he was breastfed or whether I'm sometimes on my phone while he's playing next to me or whether he gets into a fancy kindergarten. Everything else will eventually get figured out, I hope.

2. You do get a lot of stuff done when you have to. The key words being "have to," of course. Parents shouldn't complain about carefree childfree people because if I didn't have someone in my life who created 1,000 more obligations per day, I wouldn't do those 1,000 things. But I have to so I get them done. At the best of times, it's been cool to see what I'm capable of as a grown-up human. At the worst, I realized why parents are so tired. 

3. Why people like their babies. I don't think it's really all that unusual to not be a baby person before you have a baby because babies are a dime a dozen. They all do the same exact things. We were babies once and so were our parents and their parents and on and on. Babies everywhere for all of time. What else could possibly be new? But, yeah, despite it all, I am utterly delighted by the stuff that baby does that I know are completely mundane to the person next to me. I wouldn't expect that person to care, but try as I might, I can't be so cool that I'm not completely proud of all the little things the baby does that every single baby in the history of time has done, the crawling, the smiling, the talking, the cute-sleeping. And the pride, of course, has nothing to do with me: the baby isn't meeting these milestones because I did much beyond the very minimum of basic human care. He's doing them because that's him, which makes it even more fun.

End of sappiness.