Today is my first Mother’s Day, and in some respects, I still don’t feel like a real mom. With Simon being so young, I haven’t had to treat a skinned knee, lower a fever, soothe hurt feelings, or help with homework. Nor have I argued with Simon over where he can go, how much he has to eat, and what he is allowed to wear. Surely these are the true tests of motherhood. Emotionally, babies are very easy.
The physicality of mothering a baby, on the other hand, is a completely different story. Simon will be 30 weeks old Monday, and we’ve had him home for 29 weeks as of last Friday. By my reckoning, I have by now done the following:
- Nursed Simon approximately 1,471 times.
- Changed about 500 diapers (Matt changes as much or more than I do, and we have Moms helping out twice a week, too.)
- Changed his clothes around 300 times.
- Washed approximately 182 loads of diapers.
- Washed approximately 73 loads of non-diaper baby laundry,and spent more on baby clothes than I’ll ever admit.
And heaven only knows how many times I’ve picked Simon up, burped him, bounced him, sung to him, or carried him up and down the stairs. At the same time, I still have yet to:
- Be away from Simon for more than 4 hours (2 1/2 is my usual average).
- Sleep for more than 6 straight hours (3-4 is our usual average here).
- Eat a meal at home without simultaneously working, folding laundry, or holding Simon.
But I’m not complaining. Because after three days when I had lots of help with Simon–a mommy’s helper Thursday, my mom Friday, and Matt yesterday–I found that by last night I was rather missing him. Enough so that I spent a fair bit of time watching him sleep and tried to get him to sleep with me after his 5:00 a.m. feeding.
So whatever I get for my first Mother’s Day (I’ve asked for a cafe au lait from Highland Coffee Company delivered to me in bed), I can’t help but feel that my real present is Simon himself.