Before anyone asks...No, I'm not using my maternity leave to kick off my career as a female boxer however; it does feel like it at times. Let me just say that I've spent the last seven weeks dodging, ducking and weaving through a variety of baby body functions. So since my life has gone from conference calls and director meetings to diaper changes and spit ups, I've decided to write about the "dangerous business" of being the mother.
It's true what they say about babies not coming with instruction manuals. Add to that my inexperience with children and you can imagine my surprise the first time I was changing Connor and saw him shoot a "stream" clear across the changing table and have it christen the wall behind him. My inital reaction was one of pure shock - quickly followed by a sense of pride. The competitive side of me was convinced that my baby had a special talent (albeit a strange talent) for possessing the ability to pee farther than any other infant in the lone star state. It wasn't until I shared this story with a few other mother's that I realized - all baby boys are born with an amazing amount of bladder pressure and the ability to hit a moving target from several feet away.
I guess this is the reason that some cleaver entrepreneur invented a product called the "peepee teepee". I mean the fact that someone can market a product specifically designed to protect slow-handed parents from run away streams of urine is mind blowing. What's even funnier is that according to the sales lady at Whole Earth they can't keep these things on the shelves. These teepee's are big business!!
I understand that I still have a lot of tough parenting lessons ahead of me, but one thing that I've quickly learned is the importance of being on-guard at all times. You see, I've realized that if its not coming from one direction then it's likely coming from the other. For example, after I learned how to become the fastest diaper changer in the south, Connor decided to throw yet another curve ball at me. That's about the time that projectile spit-ups began to be a normal occurrence at feeding time. I'm not sure who to credit with this quote, but I once heard that you're not truly a mother until you have spit up running down your cleavage. If that's true, then I've officially earned my title...several times over.
I know it's silly that I've dedicated an entire blog entry to the topic of my son's bodily functions. However, the point that I'm trying to make is that if anyone would have told me 9 months ago that I would fall madly in love with a bald toothless man who poops in his pants and frequently throws up on me, then I wouldn't have believed it for one second. The truth is that regardless of all these things, I love my son more and more with each day that passes. My heart melts each time he looks up at me with a smile on his face or coo's at me from across the room. One day when he's older, I'll let him read this blog and hope that he appreciates me only half as much as I appreciate the joy that he's brought into our lives.
Mom's Rock - and don't you ever forget it!
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