Some signs of your new status as a mother are obvious and were predictable, including occasional identity crises, chronic lack of time and the appearance of mysterious stains on your clothes.
But there a few “side effects” of motherhood you wouldn’t have thought of a few months ago—an eternity ago now—when you were still pregnant.
Here are ten signs you are the mother of a baby (I suspect mothers of teens have other concerns…!).
You carry an “emergency kit” in your bag, i.e. a supermarket plastic bag with a couple of diapers, a cloth and wipes. Because you never know when you will need it, but you know you eventually will. (Of course, you suspect the day you will need the kit the most, you will realize you forgot to put it back in your bag…)
You aren’t quite sure how the movie ended because you passed out in front of it. Again. And it wasn’t even a subtle and witty European “art et essai” movie but a dumb and predictable Hollywood comedy.
There is a spare pacifier on the coffee table, another one in your bag and… damn, where is the third one, again? Right, in the baby’s mouth, about to fall off—again.
Spit-outs, pee and poop no longer gross you out. Well, as long as these various body fluids are coming from the baby, and not a drunk guy on the bus.
There is something wrong with the time, it’s distorted or something. How come thirty minutes with a cranky baby feels like five hours, but a two-hour unexpected nap feels like a week of free time?
You actually take a genuine interest in other people’s kids and can accurately guess a baby’s age in weeks. And you still remember the different pregnancy milestones by weeks.
You pause and turn around when you hear a baby cry, even if your baby isn’t with you but safe at home. Can’t help it, it’s like you’ve been programmed like Jason Bourne.
Your camera’s memory card is full of baby pictures. Baby smiling, baby playing, baby wearing cute clothes, baby sucking his fingers… Good thing it’s your baby, otherwise it’d be called “stalking” and “unhealthy obsession”.
You always have something in your arms—if it’s not the baby, it’s the laundry basket; if it’s not the car seat it’s the day grocery shopping of the day.
You politely say “yes, of course” to anyone dispensing baby advice—from random strangers at the mall to your in-laws—and then ponder if it has merits. And most of the time, you decide you just can’t be bothered with more dos and donts and recommendations, think “screw it” and do things your way.
You smile every time the baby smiles at you. And you glow with pride when people say nice things about your kid, although you still aren’t quite sure how to reply to the awkward “God bless him!”
How about you? Any signs of motherhood I missed?