So, about 15 years ago, I met this really sweet little baby. I'd worried and worried for the preceeding 9 months about many things. Not the least of these was what in the world was I going to do with a baby. I was only 17, after all.
I'd spent a good portion of my pregnancy puking mostly out of anxiety. Seven months to be exact. In fact, I threw up at least once every day until that fateful day when I decided that I would keep her for my very own.
So, then she was born. Labor wasn't that bad, really. The nurses weren't the greatest. They didn't have any faith in me to be a good parent. I didn't know exactly what it meant to be a good parent, but I have always been stubborn, so I knew that I'd figure it out and Rock the House at it.
She was an easy baby. Very easy. She nursed right away. In fact, the first full day she was alive, I had to go to a nursing class at the hospital. The teacher made all the other new mom's check out my kid, the barracuda. Ewww...I was 17. These women were all looking at my boobs and this kid, umm...sucking on them?! Ugh! I didn't really want to breastfeed, but my mom strongly encouraged me to. Looking back, I'm really glad that I did.
She met all of her milestones ahead of schedule including being fully potty trained one week after her 2nd birthday.
The final day of potty training wasn't my shining moment in parenting, but I think it bears mentioning. If you spank the crap out of your kid for pooping in their panties after they "promise to Jesus" they won't do it again doesn't actually scar them for life. It does, however, make for very funny fodder later in their lives. It will not earn you, the mommy, a real nomination for Mother-of-the-Year either, no matter how many times you hope that it will. For the record, after the whooping, she didn't poop in her pants again.
She's always been very verbal, though initially she didn't want to let on to this fact. I actually had to set the monitor back up in her bedroom so I could hear her. She'd play with all of her friends (stuffed animals) throwing tea parties for them in her crib. Once she'd perfected her language skills, she decided to share with us in full sentences from the beginning.
She's always been a planner and when she was about 4, I had to make a rule that she was not the one who would be making the plans for what we were going to do each day. No lists, sweetie. You're not the boss of our day, I'd have to tell her. Even at that age, she was a better person than me.
The first day of school scared the crap out of me. I was terrified that she'd tell her teachers what a crazy mommy I was and they'd take her away from me. I found incredible comfort in the fact that on the first day of school, her teacher told all of us parents that she'd believe half of what the students said to her about home if we promised to believe half of the stories they brought home about what was happening at school. Perspective. It's a beautiful thing.
We've always talked pretty straight with each other. I decided long before she was born that when she asked me hard questions I would answer them with all the truth available. We still follow this plan today.
She has grown into an amazing young lady. I can't get her to earn a B in school to save my life. She's all about the A's. She makes amazing choices in her friends and with her values. She is all I ever could have hoped for and I am thankful every day that God made her His kid in spite of my crazy motherly input.
I hear you crazy lady.
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