milestones & musings

Of new days and new beginnings

May 10, 2009

welcome_stake201

I’m loving the new domain here at motherinc.org. Don’t you think the site looks just fab? There’s lots of cool new stuff to brighten up your day like the baby blues strip and lovely new categories. Plus it’s all pink and girly and happy, which makes the whole concept of motherhood seem deceptively appealing.

The idea came about two weeks ago during a conversation with the husband.

Husband: What do you think of moving to a new domain and have your own website?

Me: That would be really cool. Except that you’re forgetting a very important fact. I’m a tech idiot and I generally can’t tell the difference between a Monet and a $5 painting you get from the flea market. My idea of a nice design includes as many colors as possible and several stick figures.

Silence.

But two weeks of sleepless nights and a bunch of gaudy designs later, I got my perfect Mother’s Day gift. Some girls like make-up and heels, but I’d rather have a website any day (and some bling, of course). What can I say, I’m a low-maintenance kinda girl, you know.

Seriously, when I saw the finished product, I was so impressed that I actually squealed with joy. Ok, so I don’t squeal, not unless a cockroach runs up my thigh in the shower (which really happened just recently and I stunned myself at the super speed at which I moved my pregnant ass out of the bathroom squealing like a 5-year-old girl), but you get what I mean.

So, here’s major props to the husband for the cool new site. For his contribution to Mother, Inc, he’s been promoted from being a regular slave to a sex slave, complete with special privileges.

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motherhood

Happy Mother’s Day!

May 8, 2009

2326

It’s finally mother’s day this Sunday. A time to celebrate moms and their supreme awesomeness.

I feel like it’s been a long time coming. I haven’t even been a mom for a whole year and it seems like I’ve been waiting endlessly for my first real mother’s day. I’d like to say that the rewards of motherhood are sufficient to make up for everything, but if you ask me, I’m desperately in need of some pampering and something wrapped up in a bow.

I’m expecting to wake up at 11 am to a sumptuous breakfast in bed and a little blue box with something sparkly inside. Tru will be all fed, changed and ready for his morning nap. After getting smothered with hugs and kisses, I’ll be whisked off for a manicure and a massage, followed by a relaxing bath of goat’s milk.

No diapers, no laundry, no food-slinging and certainly no screaming or whining.

Even then, it’s hardly a fair exchange. A day off to relax at a spa and some diamonds is not fair trade for 364 days of hair-pulling and hemorrhoids. But I’ll take it because it says “you deserve it cos are the most amazing human being on the face of this earth”.

Having recently been admitted to the elite club reserved only for the brave souls who dared to venture into the world of motherhood, it feels different being on the other side, as it were. Like most experiences, you need to be in it to fully comprehend what it really means. I used to hear moms talk about all their mothery stuff and I can try to look sympathetic, but it doesn’t really sink in.

But now, I GET IT. They can talk about 6-hour screaming fits and I totally understand. When Tru was sick and couldn’t fall asleep, I was holding him for 6 hours straight till I was sure my arms weren’t there anymore. I hear about nappy rash and projectile vomiting and I’ve literally been there, done that, bought the T-shirt, took the photo.

It’s like how doctors have their Hippocratic Oath. Mothers also have a code of conduct that they swear to keep the moment the kid pops. In summary, it goes like this. “I shall henceforth cease to exist as a free-spirited individual and place my kids over and above my own needs for the next 18 years. In short, I will become Mother Teresa.”

Only on Mother’s Day, we get a moment of brief respite. To sit back and bask in the adoration and gratitude. So to all the mothers out there, MILK IT FOR ALL IT’S WORTH because it’s over all too soon. Savor every moment and have a brilliant day.

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pregnancy

The necessity of nesting

May 7, 2009
my bags are packed i'm ready to go

my bags are packed i'm ready to go

When I first heard about the nesting instinct, I thought it was utterly bogus. Just another lame excuse for cleanliness freaks to validate their obsessive compulsiveness. It’s not surprising since pregnant women have all sorts of incredible terms for strange compulsions.

Wikipedia explains nesting as “an instinct or urge in pregnant animals to prepare a home for the upcoming newborn”. In humans, it is commonly characterized by a strong urge to clean and organize one’s home. Great, now I’m having the same primal instincts as rodents.

Seeing that I have no qualms subscribing to the philosophy of maintaining an organized mess in my home, I thought I’d escape the nesting instinct by sheer rationality.

*Phew, my superior brains are one-up over the common mammals.

I draw the line at living like a slob, but in general, I’m ok with stuff like rolling my laundry up into little balls and stuffing them in the cabinets. As a rule of thumb, as long as the common areas are neat and tidy, hidden mess does not qualify as mess. (In philosophy, it’s the falling tree in the deserted woods theory – if no one is there to witness it, it technically does not exist)

Which is why I was totally caught by surprise when the nesting instinct kicked in. Against my better judgment, I found myself having the need to organize and reorganize every little thing at home. It was pretty mild when I was pregnant with Tru (maybe it’s a boy thing), but with Kirsten, I’m unstoppable. It’s like an itch that I have to scratch.

With 9 weeks to go, I’ve repacked the nursery about 4 times. Each time, I would dig out all her clothes, re-iron them, re-fold them into neat little stacks (in exact dimensions) and place them back in the wardrobe, only to repeat the process all over again. I’ve arranged all her diapers with the precision of a neurosurgeon and practically sterilized the entire room.

The bizarre thing about the nesting instinct is that it just completely disappears the moment the baby is born. Within a week after Tru’s birth, I was back to the ball-rolling thing. Believe me, with a newborn, there was barely enough time to take a full crap, much less organize stuff.

But for now, I can’t help myself. Apparently, my super brains aren’t so superior after all.

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