I am officially (as of 3 days ago) 11 months postpartum according to the calendar and my occasionally cramping miniature mommy pooch. Sometimes when I get into my car, I have flashbacks of pregnantly gagging at the new car smell. The freshly cleaned leather seats smelled of the crayons of my childhood, as I, ironically, grew a child of my own.
I cannot believe how effing fast time flies when you’re NOT having fun (LOL). Being a Cool Mom is definitely not all “fun and games.” I’d say it resembles less of the previously mentioned combination of nouns, but more-so a combination of the verbs: “shits and giggles.” Which I find pretty self explanatory and can wholeheartedly appreciate, but only after finding some pretty solid diapers (thank you, Freestyle).
Babe turns 1 next month (WHAT?!) and has begun waving, signing “more,” nodding and requesting bong bongs, which I’ve translated to mean French Fries after 2.5 offerings of fries with very confident baby babble replies of “bong bong.” She also single-handedly (literally with one hand) ate a kiddo burrito very silently in a restaurant, which I take to mean it was DELISH (thank you Kennedi for reminding me of the potency of this word LOL). She also has caught on to how to open the bead curtain at the entrance of my room, take hats off her head and throw them at me, take off her grandparents glasses so she can poke their eyes out, bounce on her knees, wipe off her high chair tray with a wipe when she’s all done, walk while holding furniture instead of hands (though hands are still her preferred method of support for transport), grab things from under the couch and melt all of our hearts with a no longer, and never again to be, gummy grin.
As this mothering thing quickly unfolds, I can’t be more grateful to be mothering this sweet thang. I’d say we’re gracefully making this shit smell like vanilla dipped roses, and sharing the loudest, belly giggles we have the lung capacity for. So maybe we are having a little fun.
THANK YOU. THANK YOU. THANK YOU.
Abby xx