I told myself when I became a Mom that I wouldn’t give my child a ridiculous nickname.
I’ve been calling her Beeboo ever since my friend Mel said something along those lines about 3 months ago; “I have a gift for your beebu.”
For every 27th time that I call Sadie ‘Beeboo’, I make sure to throw in an exaggerated ‘Hi, Saaaaadie!’ just in case, but I’m fairly certain she thinks her name is Beeboo.
I told myself when I became a Mom that I wouldn’t fill my social media feed with pictures of my child. But it’s all I do now.
I even took it a step further and started this Mommy blog. It wasn’t enough to inundate my FB feed with baby love, so, I, in all of my less than a week of parenting, had to start a Mommy blog. Like having one baby for less than 7 days made me qualified. Ha.
But I promised myself that I would still maintain some air of ‘cool’- that my social media would have other content- not just pictures of my baby’s face doing cute things.
But I just looked at my Instagram to confirm or deny these fears- and the percentage of Sadie photos to Anything else is about 98 to 2.
I told myself when I became a Mom that I wouldn’t only talk about my child. That I would remain dynamic and fun, and that my child-free girlfriends could still talk to me reciprocally about all sorts of topics.
My sister was on the phone with me the other day, telling me how cool the Edmonton Folk Festival was, and I listened to all of her adventures from the weekend and was like: “That’s so cool! Sadie is sitting up like a big girl right now!!” Fuck.
So much for staying ‘hip’.
I told myself when I became a Mom that I would take care of my weight and make sure to eat healthy and exercise.
I lost so much weight so quickly when my milk came in that I started charging house guests a visiting tax in the form of Lindt chocolate balls, and I’ve pretty much been on the ‘let’s eat garbage’ train ever since.
Ryan is away this week for work so I pulled out my old bachelorette trick of eating butter-and-cheese-covered noodles right out of the pot with a spoon while watching old-ass episodes of Law and Order. I topped ‘dinner’ off with giant chunks that I carved out of my freshly made pan of peanut butter and marshmallow squares.
At Walmart tonight on a diaper run, I felt something wiggling behind me and I realized it was the floppy remnants of my sad ass. Since becoming a Mom, my ass has slid down and become part of my legs. The fat doesn’t bubble outward like a juicy Kardashian butt- that would be nice- but more so just flubbles around my upper thighs, flatly, reminding me that peanut butter marshmallows shouldn’t be readily available in anyone’s home.
I told myself when I became a Mom that I wouldn’t co-sleep. But every morning when she cries for her 4 or 5 or 6 am feed, I bring her into our bedroom from the crib and feed her and then stuff her into my armpit and sleep for another few hours. It’s one of my favourite parts of the day- her gazing up at me, and us wrapped into each other like little and bigger versions of each other.
Daddy is on a business trip right now so I dragged my old pregnancy pillow into our bed and rigged her up in it so that I’m not directly snuggling her all night long, but she’s still right beside me, where I want her- not in her crib, so far away from me. And by far, I mean 15 feet.
It’s everything I can do to resist the urge not to try and hold her hand while I sleep. Or mash my face into hers just to hear her breathe.
So much for not co-sleeping.
There are so many things I can think of that I told myself I would never do, but I gotta say- I Love breaking every single one of these promises to myself.
That saying that people are the best parents until they have children is so true, and it’s only just the beginning for us. Wait til we get to the fun parts! Discipline! Bedtimes! Clean up! Sharing! All the things I think now that I wouldn’t do- I’ll likely do them too.
Yell at my child. Let her have an iPad before the age of 5. Say ‘screw bedtime, let her stay up.’ Clean her mess up for her, a million times.
But for now- there’s no shame in me and my dumpy little butt and my Beeboo snoring beside me in bed like a little bulldog. I wouldn’t have it any other way.