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Maternity & Parenting Center

You know you have become a mom when . . . .

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I’ve started to notice that I’ve become a total “mom” – doing all those things I swore I would never do. In honor of that fact, I thought I’d write this post – please feel free to add your own!

You know you have become a mom when . . . .

  • you see a booger up your child’s nose, and don’t think twice about picking it.
  • your child sneezes and you use your hands . . . or shirt . . . or anything else you can easily grab to start wiping all the mucous away.
  • you see schmutz on your child’s face, and you automatically lick your finger to wipe it off (please note – I ALWAYS wash my hands in between wiping away the snot and licking my finger to wipe away the schmutz).
  • you think it is acceptable to pick up your child to sniff his/her tush to determine if the diaper has poop in it.
  • you can just pick up your child and know he/she needs a diaper change because of the increased weight.
  • you feel the need to talk to your child about the stinkiness of the poop in his/her diaper . . . even though your child does not yet understand you.
  • you don’t really care whether you have recently showered . . . or put on makeup . . . or put on an outfit that isn’t elastic and loose.
  • you have to choose between showering and eating.
  • you are proud of yourself for only accomplishing one thing all day.
  • you spend most of your days discussing poop . . . and possibly breastfeeding, pumping, or bottles.
  • you know exactly how many outfits your child has worn (and pooped through) in a given day.
  • you rate your day based upon the number of poop explosions you have had to face.
  • people ask how you are doing and you launch into a monologue about how your little one is growing/developing/sleeping/eating/pooping.
  • you start to consider getting rid of furniture to make room for toys.
  • you go to the store to pick up one toy . . . and spend an obscene amount of money and come home loaded with cool stuff (remind me to post a picture of my haul from today’s shopping trip!)
  • you spend 3 hours trying to go to the bathroom . . . or take your medicine. . . . or eat breakfast . . . and realize you still haven’t succeeded.
  • you get excited about a night of . . . . fun . . . with your husband, and can’t believe the baby throws a wrench in your plans by waking up, screaming, and needing to come into bed with you.
  • after feeding, you spend a lot of time coaxing your child into burping, and then cheer and say “good, boy” (or “good, girl”) after the offensive sound has been successfully elicited.
  • your child releases an impressive demonstration of flatulence, and you turn and say “feeling better, sweetie?”

Okay – that is all I’ve got right now . . . I’m sure there will be more another day. Please, post a few of yours!

Another story I shouldn’t share

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Since I seem to be on a roll sharing embarrassing stories, I have one more in my arsenal I might as well divulge (and I do not think I’ve shared this one online yet). A few weeks back, I was home alone with Micah and Nugget. I finished nursing Micah, and placed him on his tummy on his playmat. I went to the kitchen, and all of the sudden, I was hit with horrible stomach cramping. I’ve been having issues with this ever since I got pregnant, but something about nursing (probably the oxytocin) gives me all kinds of stomach issues. The bathroom is located right next to the kitchen, so I ran in there, thinking I’d just be a minute or so. I left the door open so I could listen to Micah and talk to him.

Needless to say, the minute I entered the bathroom, Micah started to cry and fuss. I was talking to him from across the hallway, and singing to him in an attempt to calm him. No such luck . . . his fussing escalated to flat out crying. I was doing my best to settle my stomach so I could get back to him ASAP, but I was afraid of leaving the bathroom at that exact moment. Suddenly, Micah became very quiet. Naturally, like every good mother, I panicked that something horrible had happened because I failed to answer his cries with sufficient speed. All told, I was probably only in the bathroom 2-3 minutes. When he got quiet, I raced out of the bathroom (thank goodness all the windows were closed or I would have been humiliated beyond belief) and ran to make sure my baby was okay.

To my shock and amazement . . . . I found Micah on his back (he’d rolled over) with Nugget on the playmat next to him, gently nuzzling his face and body while he cooed at her. My wonderful dog decided she would take care of him! Like every good mother would do . . . I went back to the bathroom since Nugget had it all under control.