I didn’t enter into motherhood with a plan; I wasn’t keen on reading hundreds of books, my labour plan consisted of one sentence that said “do not show me the epidural needle”, and I insisted on keeping an open mind – whatever will be, will be, and that sort of thing. I had always said that I would love to try breastfeeding (when else do you have liquid enough to sustain another human being? I mean, how cool is that?), but if it didn’t work, I wasn’t opposed to switching to formula. The thing about motherhood is that regardless of how you envision your approach, things never quite work out according to plan.
She runs with the speed of light at the sound of a cry. She heals all wounds and comforts without the use of magical powers. She can prepare dinner, keep a social calendar and return the house to normal at the end of the day all while ensuring the survival of a little human. She’s not superwoman, oh no, she’s much more than that; she’s SUPERMOM.
Talk about ensuring the survival of the human race. Okay, so Super-man, woman, whatever, can scale buildings, fly, rescue people in distress and monitor the general well-being of society. Reality check: If it weren’t for Supermoms the world over, there would be no one rescue. Who do you think makes sure that the little tots causing havoc become well-adjusted adults who get themselves in to stupid situations that require saving? Oh poor Superman, flying around the city saving people and squeezing into telephone booths to keep his disguise a secret. What a diva. Supermom has one outfit that is guaranteed to get stained, spat on, and generally mistreated throughout the day. There’s no changing this, or hemming that. In fact, shoulder stains and little tears are all part of what protects Supermom from the threat of good looking men who lurk around grocery stores or take long casual walks during their lunch break. These men may look to initiate conversation at places like the playground, the coffee shop or the doctor’s office, but thanks to looking like a complete and utter bum, Supermom maintains her honour and is able to focus on the task at hand; preservation of the species. Continue reading “Supermom: Ensuring the survival of the human race (literally)”→
When I found out I was pregnant, I immediately started praying for a girl. Well, I would have, if I prayed. But I did start wishing really, really hard and in the end, my wish came true. On September 16th, our little Luna was born and since then, I have spent twelve hours a day being at her complete beck and call. I feed her, I change her, I dress her, I soothe her, I bathe her, and I play with her, yet the moment my husband walks through the door, it’s as if I was never there.