For mother's day everyone is going to share these romantic notions about motherhood and how mothers are these beautiful, saint like people willing to sacrifice their own lives for their beautiful children who can do no wrong. I am here to offer up a big old dose of reality. First off, she was no Gerber baby. I was expecting the perfect cherub from all of the commercials, but that is the farthest thing from reality. She was covered in white slime with an odd shaped skull from having ridden the wild ride that was my birth canal. No, I did not have that "oh my God she is so stunning" moment, but my family and friends around me certainly did (Aunty Susie I am talking about you!), but I most certainly did have a "what the hell was I thinking?!" moment on more than one occasion. Second, she was exhausting. I spent my twenties partying it up and being a workaholic in Las Vegas, but not one bender I ever went on could compare to the amount of physical or emotional energy that she took. For feedings I was the head milking cow, for comfort I was the only thing that would work when she was cranky, and this kid had no concept of what low maintenance meant. So what do you do when you are exhausted by this tiny bundle of high maintenance joy?
You would think having a second one would be twice as difficult, or perhaps you are really ambitious and you think it could be half as challenging. That's sweet. It is easily 500 times more difficult. With one baby you can run into the store for milk. With two babies you are screwed. You have gone from functional to traveling with an entourage. Milk runs are delegated to daddy or a sacrificial friend who clearly liked you well enough before you used your uterus to tolerate the fact that you haven't been available for martini girls night in a solid two years. My child free friends would come over and make bold statements like "I don't change diapers." Cute because I don't hold hair when you're vomiting in a night club, but I managed that, didn't I? I didn't just envy my child free friends. That doesn't convey how desperately I wanted them to take me with them when they left my suburbia for their fancy city. If one of them had brought a purse large enough for me to crawl inside unnoticed, I would have.
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