1 Mother 2 Another

I have to confess that for the past few years, I’ve watched the whole back-to-school frenzy with a kind of smugness; as a mom of babies and toddlers, I’ve been immune to the artificial season of School Is Here! Maddie’s routine never varied, and we still woke up, went to the park, took a nap, and played with her toys every day regardless of the weather or ringing of a bell. The biggest variation in our schedule was Sunday, when we went to church instead of the park.

So I’d see the moms with their shopping lists, their eyes already haggard as they tried to figure out schedules and timing and routines, and pity them, vowing it’d never be me. I mean, school starts, the schedule is obvious – how hard can that be to organize?

Shut up. I hear all you seasoned mommies laughing at me.

Have I mentioned I’m an organization
freak? I’ve got three dry-erase boards on my refrigerator
alone (meal planning and leftovers board, contents of freezer
board, and Cora’s solid foods tracking board if you’re
interested); I own and frequently use a label maker; I wrote
letters to Container Store for six years begging them to come to
New York City (Notice that they did. I met the owner once and may
have actually squealed). So I am all for anything that will help me
organize our family life.


I’ve seen a lot of “mommy organizers” out there,
and have bought none of them; many seem to have fun blanks to fill
in but end up requiring more work, not less. So when I stumbled
acrossErin
Condren’s website touting her calendar and family
planner, I was skeptical but gave it a look.

When Maddie was born, the hospital sent us home with a new-parent packet that included a handy little sheet for recording feedings and diaper changes for the first week. We were instructed to fill it out in detail and bring it to our one-week check-up. In addition to space for noting feedings and changings, it helpfully described what the poop should look like each day (black tarry, brown tarry, yellow seedy, etc.) and how many wet and poopys we should have that first week.

When those seven days were up, I continued using the sheet of paper, making notes in the margins for feedings and changes. I found the written log to be not only comforting (look! I am keeping her alive!) but helpful in my sleep-deprivation; I couldn’t remember from one feeding to the next what time I’d started or which breast was used first. I also found solace in seeing my life laid out on that timetable: there was actual proof as to why I was so exhausted all the time, and even a rough pattern emerging.

As part of my fast and furious “get
as ready as I possibly can for Peanut’s arrival”
campaign, I’ve been going through Maddie’s baby book
and making sure it’s up-to-date, knowing it’ll suffer
from serious neglect once Peanut shows up. Likewise, I started
filling in Peanut’s own book (as much as you can for a baby
who’s not yet here!) and anticipating her arrival.


I remember when I was pregnant with Maddie, I wanted to find the
perfect baby book. Brian had recently re-discovered his little
memory book and was overjoyed to see it wasn’t simply for
newborns: his book went through at least his fifth birthday. So
when we set out to find a memory book for our first baby, we wanted
to find something that didn’t just have a few spaces for
photos and footprints; we wanted something that would be thorough,
with lots of blanks to fill in and plenty of room to grow.

As I prepare for peanut’s arrival, I have been going through my to-do list and doing the appropriate amount of over-stressing on each item. I’m astounded at the amount of things I got done during my first pregnancy, and have to constantly remind myself that oh yes, I didn’t have a child yet to take care of! So this time around the list is considerably shorter – partly because we’ve got a lot of things done already (no need to do a baby registry, for example) and partly because I’m simply learning to let go of my unreasonable expectations.

It’s official.  We have a baby!

A copy of Madeleine’s birth announcement came in the mail.  Seeing her name in print made everything seem so, I don’t know, unchangeable.  As if we’d only borrowed a baby for a while to play at the parenting thing, but now that we’ve announced it to the world, we’re in this for the long haul, no exchanges, no refunds.  Not that I want to exchange her; but I imagine that now that we’ve announced it, I’ve gone from some hip chick with a baby to a mommy.  Does that make any sense?  A sort of reference point shift for my identity.  I’ve been looking at this whole thing as if she’s my daughter, and now suddenly I’m her mother.