ROANOKE TIMES
Copyright (c) 1996, Roanoke Times
DATE: Thursday, May 9, 1996 TAG: 9605100099
SECTION: NEIGHBORS PAGE: E4 EDITION: METRO
COLUMN: between the lines
SOURCE: BETSY BIESENBACH STAFF WRITER
Mother's Day is coming up, and this year, for the first time, I'm going to be on the receiving end of the adulation. My baby was born in January. I'm glad he's here, and I'm just crazy about him, but I still can't believe he really belongs to me. Becoming a mother has been a major adjustment, and I haven't quite made it yet.
Last fall, I spent a lot of time wondering why people want to become parents. It was a pretty stupid thing to do, considering the birth of my son was imminent, and there wasn't a whole lot I could do about it if I decided to change my mind.
But since the baby arrived, I have figured out the answer to my question.
People are always complaining that there isn't enough time in the day. But when you have a new baby, he keeps you awake approximately 231/2 hours out of every 24, which should be long enough to get everything accomplished.
There's a catch, of course. After several months of this, the time you don't spend doing things for the baby, worrying about the baby, watching the baby, etc., is spent trying to remember to blink and to keep your jaw shut so your eyes and your mouth don't dry out. That tends to eat up the extra time.
All the books say that, at 4 months, my baby should be taking "only" five feedings a day, and we should be thinking about getting rid of one of those. Last month, we cut him down to six, and he still doesn't like it, so he tries to make sure that at least three of those feedings happen at night.
He's also supposed to be sleeping all night, but I can hardly blame him if he's not. After all, who wouldn't like snacks delivered in bed and being relieved of the responsibility of finding the bathroom in the dark? Gotta go? No problem. There's a whole case of diapers in the closet.
Yes, my son thinks the world is his oyster. And his Italian sub. And his mashed potatoes with gravy. And his cheeseburger with a large order of fries, a chocolate shake, and one of those little rectangular cherry pies on the side.
I'm not saying my kid is fat, but in 12 short weeks, he managed to double his birth weight. If I didn't know better, I'd say he was rolling his pudgy little self out of the crib at night and raiding the refrigerator.
I know better, though. Since Ian was born, my husband, who does the shopping, can't remember to bring home anything other than diapers and formula. There is no food in my house, and even if there were, I'd be too tired to cook it.
Have I mentioned my son's hat size? When I call the doctor and they can't remember who he is, I say: "You know, the kid with the big head."
And they say: "Oh, yeah, him."
Three months seems to be the time that the novelty of having the baby wears off and the work seems a little more like drudgery. It occurred to me one morning that there will probably be days that I will not like being the mommy. (I was very slow to figure this out, I think. This is why I do not make my living as a rocket scientist.)
That's also about the time it dawned on me that weekends have a whole new meaning. My relief at not having to go to work for two days was suddenly tempered by the realization that there are no days off from being Mommy.
Actually, I wouldn't like it if there were. Even on the days I'm the most tired, I rush off to my baby's sitter as soon as I can to pick him up. Friends have offered to take him home with them for a night so I can get some sleep, but I'd rather stay awake than spend a single night away from my child.
Even after a night of answering his cries every hour on the hour, all it takes is a grin and a "goo-goo" to make me forgive him in the morning.
The most amazing thing of all is when this little creature, who just a few weeks ago was an unresponsive lump of squalling flesh, stands in my lap, looks me straight in the eye, and babbles at me as seriously as though he were offering up his opinion on the budget deficit.
I still don't know much about this mommy stuff, but I have a feeling I am in for the ride of my life.
Betsy Biesenbach, a very sleepy part-time staff writer for Neighbors, is adjusting to life as a mother.
LENGTH: Medium: 80 linesby CNB