|Baby Lila. And Baby Mama me.|
As my first born approaches a momentous birthday, (ok, she’ll be five), I can’t help but reflect on what it’s like to be her parent.
I feel like I’m entering this new period of her life with more than a little trepidation. Um, this is when it starts getting real, ya’ll. This is when they START TO REMEMBER STUFF… LIKE FOR THE REST OF THEIR LIVES.
I remember when my Lila Pickle was a newborn. I’d park her in front of a Baby Einstein DVD (which haven’t they been banned now?) while I took a shower. But then I quickly learned that she preferred E!’s Talk Soup (who wouldn’t?), so she’d watch that.
T.V. and a newborn?
Sure, why not. It’s not like she’d remember it.
So when she was first born I really wasn’t riddled with anxiety or fear; I just wanted to do things right. But if I didn’t, it was ok because she had no real memory of it. (Can I get an amen?)
Don’t get me wrong, it was all new, though! And it was daunting:
- Was I swaddling her too tight?
- I need to help her learn to develop good sleep skills.
- When should she eat solids? Which solids? HOW OFTEN?
- Why is she almost three and we don’t know what she’s saying?
- Did I not do enough tummy time with her?
- Are her teeth going to grow in like that?
- Is the bath water too hot? Too cold?
- WHAT IF I USE NON-BABY, SULFATE-LADEN SHAMPOO ON HER!?
- What if she hates cow’s milk? What if she’s got food allergies?
- What if she falls out of bed when her crib becomes a toddler bed?
- What if she chokes?
- What if she falls?
- What if she bleeds?
And I bet 25 years from today, I’ll feel the same way.
She’s brought a tranquility to my soul.
While she’s grown, she has helped me grow.
“I get it.”
|3 or 4-days-old with her Nana, my Mom.|