Last night, I remarked to my husband that I'm not sure if I still qualify as a "new mom" or not. I mean, we're out of the woods of caring for a newborn, and on the cusp of chasing a toddler. But I still feel like a beginner.
And I will always be a beginner with this girl. After all, I've never had a toddler before, never had a kid who speaks before, never taught a kid to ride a bike, dropped a kid off at kindergarten, or done any of those next-in-line things.
I'm a pro at 8-months-and-younger daughter-raising, though. I've lived on 3 hours of sleep; I've tried to teach an infant how to breastfeed, then two months later, taught her to bottle-feed; I've learned how to sneeze silently and hold my bladder for hours; I've changed diapers in unclean restrooms with 4 square feet of space and no changing table; I've become the mistress of distractions: a fan! a tree! snow! a mirror! a box! a kleenex!
But Maeve is a beginner, too, so I guess she and her father and I will all muddle through together.
|Am I a puppy, or a baby?|