The Blue Pitcher

Thursday, July 30, 2009

Cover-Up

My mom often says there's only so long you can lie about your age before you have to start lying about your kid's age. I like this. It means in her world I'm only 27. I've started feeling the same way about under-eye concealer. There's only so much you can use to mask the fact that you're not getting any sleep before you have to start dabbing under your baby's eyes as well. Oh Evabird, looks like you may be a Covergirl long before you're due!

Tuesday, July 28, 2009

Fear

I've never been afraid of much. I love heights and falling and flying; I consider spiders to be good luck; I can speak in front of large groups without having to picture anyone naked. Because of this, my transition into motherhood has been particularly strange. Suddenly, there's so much to fear: choking, drowning, kidnapping, sure, but then there's even more. Am I kissing her too much? Not enough? Feeding her too much? Not enough? Is all this crazy singing making her happy or scarring her for life? Does she feel pressured to learn the alphabet? Should I not have flicked the Roly Poly away? A couple of nights ago, I tried to watch an episode of Law & Order but had to stop after ten minutes because I got so scared that something would happen to her, that she'd be dealing pot at 14, that the creepy neighbor would "help" her, that she'd never even make it to 14 because the video monitor was broken and delivering an old "sleeping" picture while she was actually upstairs sprawled on the floor because she had climbed out of her crib. I guess I'm wondering what to do with all this fear, wondering if it goes away or becomes half-remembered or if--and I, uhm, fear this might be the case--I should get used to plucking all these grays.