Five hours of uninterrupted sleep suddenly became a luxury.
It became very important to not lose a big yellow duck or a blanket named “Nelly”.
I wanted to slap people who were mean to their children.
I once forgot to brush my hair for three days in a row.
My fanciest outfit became stretch pants without stains.
I realized I wouldn’t hesitate to kill someone threatening the life of my child.
I stopped “peeing” and started “going potty”.
I could “go potty” while holding an infant AND a bottle, without interrupting a feeding.
A little hand reaching up for mine could make every bad part of my day fade away.
Quiet made me nervous.
A splash followed by a giggle meant the plumber was coming to visit.
I learned to not be nauseated every time I changed a diaper or cleaned up barf.
I couldn’t resist the urge to sneak into my sleeping baby’s room, “just to be sure”.
Stories about mothers and sons made me cry.
I learned to type, cook, clean, get dressed, do anything with one hand.
I went to get a massage and without me telling the masseuse that I was a mother, he told me I needed to stop carrying my child on my left hip all the time.
I found out the hard way never to leave the house without a diaper bag, even if I’m just running one errand.
I naturally rocked from side to side, all the time.
My son barfed and I was able to clean it and him up and get him into new clothes all while having a totally normal phone conversation.
I was able to “feel” a barf coming ten seconds before it arrived.
I started scheduling errands around my child’s pooping schedule.
I went to the grocery store with one of my best friends, leaving Jake home with the boys, and I instinctively turned to pick up my friend and put her in the grocery cart.
I left the house looking like a rats nest because I only had energy to make one person look good.
I always had a contigency plan.
Tiny socks in the dryer made me smile and get a little misty-eyed.
I felt lost without a diaper bag, purse and baby on my hip.
I developed irrational fears about gypsies kidnapping my son or that he would fall into the hippo water tank at the zoo.
Teaching my son to not melt down every time he fell meant that I had to bite my lip, hold my breath and sometimes cry a little myself after he ran off happy as a clam.
Found myself putting my son in his room to think about what he’d done really meant that I needed a minute to go and laugh myself sick in private.
I had a nightmare that my extremely active child was a twin.
There were cars on my kitchen counter and animals in my bathtub.
I discovered that Cheerios can end up anywhere, including in ears and up noses.
I learned that a clean house came secondary to walks in the sunshine, a day at the park, or sitting on the back porch with a sleepy child.
I realized that sometimes hugs and kisses really do make everything better.
I began every day praying that I don’t screw it all up.
My thankfulness for my own mother increased by a factor of ten every day.