Confession: I have not read Elizabeth Gilbert’s “Eat, Pray, Love,” which is a Class A white-lady sin. Well, I read the first chapter or so, and all I remember is this quote: 

“Having a baby is like getting a tattoo on your face. You really need to be certain it’s what you want before you commit.”

Can I just say, I freaking love my face tattoo. Like more than life itself and all those other cliches. But sometimes, I look at my little tattoo, covered in yogurt or needing to be put down for a nap or eating restaurant crayons and I think, “Holy crap. This kid is mine.” 

You think this would have set in some time ago. Like 14 months ago, when I brought him home from the hospital? Maybe it’s because I’m now getting enough sleep that my brain is starting to resume normal function, but this having-a-kid thing seems a bit overwhelming. 

This is the part where I assure you that I love my kid, and I’m not going to be leaving him on your doorstep or anyone else’s.  Even a few hours away from him, and I start to miss him terribly. But sometimes the prospect of bedtime seems insurmountable, and the prospect of bedtime for the next 17 years is just… oof. And we’re not even to the terrible twos yet. 

It’s definitely not Teddy. He’s pretty great. Very well behaved and sweet. It’s just the responsibility. The knowing that I am “the one,” as Liz says. The end of the line. The mother. 

It just seems like there are no days off. Correction: there ARE no days off. 

I think this means I need to get out of the house more. But have you noticed how getting out of the house is not like it used to be? When you come home, there is the inevitable mess to clean up. And said child needs you twice as bad as they would have if you had just stayed home. 

Sigh. 

I would like to wrap up this post by saying something reassuring and pulling it all together. Just not really at that place today, you know? So, if you’ve been there, fellow mamas, can you reassure me this time? That I’m not going crazy, that I’m not a bad mom and that this face tattoo, in all its glory, is really very becoming?

Thanks in advance. I appreciate it. 

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