On Being Someone's Mama, part the first.
Not surprisingly, having a baby does, really change everything.
Strangely, it didn't really change things in the ways I thought it would. At least, not completely--certainly I have less gross free time than I used to have, but considering the fact that I have been a housewife in a small apartment that takes relatively little upkeep for two years, now, and have not at any point in that time had a car to do errands with...honestly it wasn't possible for me to make a major life change and end up with more free time, so I don't think that's surprising at all. There are days--like yesterday, in fact--where I don't get any 'me' time until I'm too exhausted to take advantage of it. I thought I would be viciously bitter about that, being the type of person who's always wanted a lot of 'down time' or at least time where I could multitask my duties with fun things. But there's definitely something equally rewarding about sitting on the bed with my son and watching him figure out that if he holds his hand up in one particular way, I will kiss it, and watching the sheer, unrestrained glee that crosses his face over--I can only presume--the combined notion of I did this myself and Mama loves me.
There's something quietly amazing about the whole thing. He's now almost twice as big as he was when he was born, and he looks simultaneously like an entirely different person, and just like he always has. He can hold his head up now and look around at the world around him, which he loves to do. I have, of course, a mother's bias, but he seems so smart already--he knows his bottle when he sees it and can almost hold it himself. He knows he has to push the orange button on one of his toys to make it sing, although he isn't entirely certain HOW to push the button, since the toy tends to swing out of his way when he bats at it and he hasn't quite gotten grasping things down with any exactitude. He knows when he's brought into the bathroom he's going to be bathed (unpopular) and when we go to the garage he's going in the car (popular). He has almost learned to laugh (which results in this funny little breathy almost coughing 'kheh heh heh' which cracks me up. It's seriously like Emperor Paltapine's laugh, but he does it with such an innocent expression of joy.) He babbles sometimes in his little Joey-speak and looks to me with an expectant expression as if he's really carrying on a conversation with me, even though I can't understand what he's saying.
Of course, we are also now getting to the point where he has opinions on things (like bedtime, or not being with Mom, both unpopular) and he can frustrate me so much sometimes when he's been exceptionally demanding.
It's also funny how little things that never bothered me before are such big deals now. My neighbors' nonstop pot habit, while before was irritating, now is a Serious Threat To My Child's Development and merits me (or Kev, as the case may be) stomping all the way down to the leasing office to complain. The cat is under constant and often unfair scrutiny, under the idea that he might not only hurt the baby but commit such a grievous sin as accidentaly bump the baby gym. The world has gone from just the place I live in to alternating between the wild extremes of being a place that is new and wonderful as seen through my son's eyes, or a place that is horrible and terrible, as seen through eyes that wish to protect him.
But I've babbled enough. I'm going to take the baby to the beach!
Strangely, it didn't really change things in the ways I thought it would. At least, not completely--certainly I have less gross free time than I used to have, but considering the fact that I have been a housewife in a small apartment that takes relatively little upkeep for two years, now, and have not at any point in that time had a car to do errands with...honestly it wasn't possible for me to make a major life change and end up with more free time, so I don't think that's surprising at all. There are days--like yesterday, in fact--where I don't get any 'me' time until I'm too exhausted to take advantage of it. I thought I would be viciously bitter about that, being the type of person who's always wanted a lot of 'down time' or at least time where I could multitask my duties with fun things. But there's definitely something equally rewarding about sitting on the bed with my son and watching him figure out that if he holds his hand up in one particular way, I will kiss it, and watching the sheer, unrestrained glee that crosses his face over--I can only presume--the combined notion of I did this myself and Mama loves me.
There's something quietly amazing about the whole thing. He's now almost twice as big as he was when he was born, and he looks simultaneously like an entirely different person, and just like he always has. He can hold his head up now and look around at the world around him, which he loves to do. I have, of course, a mother's bias, but he seems so smart already--he knows his bottle when he sees it and can almost hold it himself. He knows he has to push the orange button on one of his toys to make it sing, although he isn't entirely certain HOW to push the button, since the toy tends to swing out of his way when he bats at it and he hasn't quite gotten grasping things down with any exactitude. He knows when he's brought into the bathroom he's going to be bathed (unpopular) and when we go to the garage he's going in the car (popular). He has almost learned to laugh (which results in this funny little breathy almost coughing 'kheh heh heh' which cracks me up. It's seriously like Emperor Paltapine's laugh, but he does it with such an innocent expression of joy.) He babbles sometimes in his little Joey-speak and looks to me with an expectant expression as if he's really carrying on a conversation with me, even though I can't understand what he's saying.
Of course, we are also now getting to the point where he has opinions on things (like bedtime, or not being with Mom, both unpopular) and he can frustrate me so much sometimes when he's been exceptionally demanding.
It's also funny how little things that never bothered me before are such big deals now. My neighbors' nonstop pot habit, while before was irritating, now is a Serious Threat To My Child's Development and merits me (or Kev, as the case may be) stomping all the way down to the leasing office to complain. The cat is under constant and often unfair scrutiny, under the idea that he might not only hurt the baby but commit such a grievous sin as accidentaly bump the baby gym. The world has gone from just the place I live in to alternating between the wild extremes of being a place that is new and wonderful as seen through my son's eyes, or a place that is horrible and terrible, as seen through eyes that wish to protect him.
But I've babbled enough. I'm going to take the baby to the beach!