Have you ever read that book, I think it's called, "Are You My Mother?" where this little bird gets separated from its mother and then he searches around desperately for her, mistaking her for all these other sorts of things such as a bulldozer, and a cat, and shit like that. It gets me a bit panicky and quite empathetic for the sweet little tuft of feathers, but then he finds his real mother at the end of the book and all is well. Phew.
You know what happened to me when I became a mother? I became less self-absorbed, which I like to think happens to most people when they become parents. I cared more about the temperature at which water boils so as to sanitize soothers than I did matching my socks together. Three consecutive hours of sleep and an uninterrupted poo was like, something worthy of scrapbooking (I tried scrapbooking, but I have zero patience for cutting and gluing and drawing letters with curly cues--I came close to lighting everything on fire, several times). I'd twist my formerly perfect spine into an "S" shape to drape one of my boobs over the edge of the crib so I could feed the baby without having to move him. Mashing up steamed sweet potatoes and freezing the mush in little cubes took precedence over running, and my ever enlarging ass was the incriminating evidence.
But it was all, it IS all, worth it. Because when my little tuft of feathers lose their way, they'll know who to look for because they will have memorized my constant presence in their lives. They'll follow the sound of my laughter as I tell stories of how the fire department came... twice... because I left the rubber bottles and breast pumps boiling on the stove. They'll know that when they wander off and lose their way that I'll be right there to hold them when they need the comfort of home.
I fully remember "Are you my mother?" (what a sad question, isn't it..). And I know what you mean. As selfless as I can be as a parent, mothers are infinitely more selfless. Mothers Day: the day a Mother gets to act like a father. Happy belated one to you.
ReplyDeleteI love the story of the burned nipples. It's one of my favourites :) That and your exploding guts when you ate like a million pieces of fresh broccoli. I still think of that every single time I eat broccoli :)
ReplyDeleteI've told this one before and I'll tell it again, one of my faves:
ReplyDeleteSuzy was in her 5th, or 6th (?) month of pregnancy, and her doctor had forbidden her from running because of some pregnancy complications. She needed to go out to the corner store to quickly pick up some necessary item, like milk.
Suzy: I could just walk to the corner store, but I dare not.
Me: Why not? What's wrong with walking to the corner store?
Suzy: I'll be tempted too much.
Me: Tempted? How? (Thinking to myself, what, that she'll buy ice cream or something? And what's wrong with that, anyway?)
Suzy: I can't trust myself to walk there, I'll be too tempted to break into a run.