Dear Little Red Bean,
I was ecstatic to see you today, but I have a confession (or four) to make: especially now that you look like an actual baby instead of a blob, I am REALLY nervous. Worried I don’t remember how to do this, this motherhood gig. The thing where we’re up all night, you’re crying, I can’t soothe you, and I reek of milk and spit up and I wear the same clothes for days.
Seriously, I just got the hang of things. I finally learned how to juggle. But now all the bean bags are about to land on the floor.
I’ve always said your twin sisters were easy because they’re the same age, they were doing the same things at the same time (i.e. teething, crawling, starting solids, etc), and until now, I’ve never been able to imagine how moms of several little ones manage kids on all different schedules. This fall we’ll have kindergarten, carpool, soccer, ballet and…you.
Red bean, hear me out. I’m going to try and be different this time around. I’m going to say NO more. I’m going to feel less guilty. I’m going to work at being more laid back and relaxed. If my boobs don’t work out, we’re just gonna use bottles and I don’t care what those witchy La Leche lactation people say. If you sleep better on your tummy, so be it. And yes, there will be bumper pads in your crib. Oh, and don’t be mad at me if I let the nurses take care of you the first night in the hospital. It’ll be my last night of sleep and I won’t be able to get out of bed to tend to you anyway. But that’s okay because you won’t remember.
I love you, Little Red Bean. Thank you for staying with me.
p.s. For those of you who are worried? Don’t be. I am not morphing back into a mommy blogger. Yes, this is on my mind a lot lately, but I shall return to normal programming shortly. Red Bean has sapped all my energy which means writing has not been happening. Period.