Or at least, that’s how my stepfather referred to it once. It is that transformation from nervous new mom to the been-there-done-that-and-got-the-stain-on-my-t-shirt-to-prove-it type mom. It was not an overnight thing. In fact, it was not until my second child was over a year old that I really had transformed into this new type of mom. It was a gradual, step by step thing that happened, so slowly I barely noticed. It was not until Geno pointed it out to me one day that I realized I had grown into the type of mother I wanted to be. Not the anxious hovering over the baby, calling every five minutes to find out how the kids are type of mom.
I’ll never forget the first time I left Jaide to go out for a drink. She was about two months old, my sister was babysitting for me and the bar that I went to was only next door. I was out for an hour, maybe. Then Elaina called saying that Jaide was crying. Well, that was the end of my evening. I promptly went and retrieved her. I don’t even think I finished a whole drink. Of course, there was nothing wrong with her and once I’d held her for a minute, she was fine, but that was it for me. Once mommy-mode kicked in, I no longer wanted to be anywhere but in arm's reach of my baby. Then there was her first bloody lip. She wasn’t quite a year old, just learning to walk and she fell and just bumped her lip enough to make it bleed. I panicked. My poor husband took the baby and said ‘Go get a cold washcloth for her to suck on.’ Of course, by the time I got back from the kitchen, the bleeding had stopped.
Poor Jaide got all my first panic attacks. First bloody lip, first falls, first high fevers, first stitches. I even dropped her on her head once. Or rather, I fell and she fell out of the baby back pack I was carrying her in and landed square on her forehead (so yes, once again, I‘m not in the running for mom of the year). I ‘m not sure which of us cried harder that time. Anyway, I freaked, everytime. Somehow, she turned out alright in spite of the fact that I badly wanted to wrap her in bubble wrap and keep her safe forever. In my defense, Jaide was a preemie, so delicate and tiny when she was born that I was almost afraid to even touch her .
Then along came AJ. At 9 lbs 6oz, he was never the tiny, fragile creature that his big sister was. Maybe that was the difference, or perhaps it really is the fact that I’d already been there with Jaide, so I know what I’m doing. First bloody lip, no big deal. First high fever, still a bit scary, but not a huge deal either. In fact, even the first butterfly stitches didn’t have me panicking. Anyway, it went from rushing home less than an hour after I’d left to check on the baby, to calling every five minutes after I’d dropped the baby off, to calling twice, usually at bedtime and in the morning, to now (and this was where the Geno comment came in) I drop the kids off and run.
Now when they fall, it's a quick glance to see if they are getting back up or not. If there are tears, they are kissed away and whatever cut or scrape or bruise they've gotten now is treated with cool water and Neosporin or an ice pack. I'm not hovering anymore. I'm encouraging them to go play, to learn to amuse themselves, to be independent. I look back at the ten years I've been a parent and I can see how much I've grown, just as I can see how my children have grown and thrived.
Now, it seems I am transforming again. This time into the dreaded 'single mom'. I worried about my separation from my husband, and what that would do to them. Would my poor children be scarred for life? Would the world put a label on them 'children of separated parents', and expect them to conform to the trouble-making, attention-seeking box that the experts all seem to believe these children will fit into? But, it turns out, my children really don't care much about labels. It's a bit early yet, but they are still the same kids they were before. I am confident that we ALL will turn out ok.
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