On being a Mommy

Sometimes Mary Bullock wakes up cranky from her naps. I haven't figured out any sort of pattern. Some days she bounds out of bed ready to play. Other days, all she wants to do is cry, and there's nothing that will appease her. On those days we spend most of the afternoon with her in my lap crying into my shoulder. It's frustrating that I can't seem to make her feel better, but it's also nice [for me, anyway], because I know these days of my girl on my lap will eventually end.

Have I ever told you about my second day of teaching? If I've known you long, you've probably heard this. But I had just turned 22 [this might be the ONLY thing I remember about being 22!]. I was standing in my hippie Dansko clogs in front of a class of total hoodlums, and I fell down, smack on my bottom, in a skirt. [I know, you're thinking-- that's what you get for wearing Danskos with a skirt.] But I did fall, and it was probably the most humiliating experience of my life at that point. Or else I thought so [because I was 22 and still pretty dramatic].

If you're still reading, you might be thinking--what does this have to do with Mary Bullock? But this day over a decade ago is the day that I think of when MB cries on my lap. Because the very next period after my complete wipe out, I went down to my mom's office, sat down in her lap, put my head on her shoulder and sobbed.

I remember feeling embarrassed, and stupid, and frustrated. But I also remember thinking that I was so glad to be sitting there, way too old to be doing this sort of thing, crying on my mommy's shoulder.  I don't even know if she remembers it, but I will never forget it.

One day when Mary Bullock is a mommy, I hope she remembers that I was there for her when all she wanted to do was cry. And I hope she gives her own baby extra hugs and kisses.

And possibly ice cream.