From Here to Autonomy

Am I a Bad Mother?

Am I a bad mother if:

• I'm typing this while an infant is feeding on my right boob?
• I forgot to ask you to wash your hands before holding the baby?
• I stick a finger in her mouth to suck when she's tantruming and there's no Purell in sight?
• I pee while I'm wearing her?
• I eat while I'm wearing her, and you can find granola crumbs and errant drops of the frozen yogurt in the folds of her neck?
• I have a three wet-fart rule? No change of diaper until I hear at least three.
• I file nails badly? My baby has scissorhands and wakes up from naps looking like she was in a cat fight.
• I drink a glass of wine and nurse less than two hours afterward?
• I'd rather go back to my old size than keep the pounds on my hips recommended to nurse optimally?
• I can't remember the words to a lullabye to save my life?
• I sing Bob Marley instead?
• I sing the same verse from Three Little Birds over and over?
• I hum Tori Amos' "Putting the Damage On" as backup?
• I request that you let me put on a bra, and maybe some mascara, next time you decide to shoot pics of me with the baby and post them on Facebook?
• I haven't planned where we'll live in five years so that we can be in a good school district?
• I let her watch Burn Notice when I saw that staring at the TV calmed her down?
• I let her have all the immunizations recommended by her pediatrician without an interrogation?
• I use disposable diapers?
• I pray that she doesn't inherit my hair?
• I still use my picture in my Facebook profile and not hers?

The Practical New Mother

I struggle to remember what for years I've heard during the safety instructions on flights--something about securing your air mask before attending to your child's...

I try to remember this as I clean hummus that has lodged in the fold of my daughter's neck. Sure, I could have waited for her to have fallen asleep, but after two aborted attempts and her long bout of hiccups I hedged my bets and, holding the baby with one arm, started to pull immediately edible items from the refrigerator and cupboards: hummus, crackers, yogurt, and a block of cheese.

I find a knife and with the hand not holding the baby, slice off a chunk of white cheddar. It's too large for the delicate wheat craker I've managed to liberate from its package--it crumbles while I attempt to nibble, and half of it falls to the floor. I negotiate with myself: Pick it up now or "remember" it later. There are many things that I've opted to "remember" around my house. Things that H-band later finds and tries to question me about. He knows by now that if the item fell during a particularly challenging period with the baby he's going to get a look from me. A look that says, "Don't." He's learning to pick his battles, and I'm learning to pick mine.

I find a cocktail sauce spoon--the only clean utensil in the drawer, and start to eat hummus directly from the tub in which it was bought. I feel a little guilty. Years ago when I moved to New York City after college, I used to eat my leftovers right out of the Tupperware. I had two roommates from Beverly Hills (with whom I was connected through a friend of a mutual friend) who used to watch me do this and question why I didn't spoon my leftovers on a plate. I told them, why dirty another dish? They looked at me funny--Midwestern girl...never learned to eat leftovers properly. I rationalized that I was simply being practical, efficient. Like I'm rationalizing now.

I finish my lunch standing up and put away anything that I can wrap/clean/close with one hand. The crackers remain out of their package. H-band will question me about this as well, and I will tell him I left them out so that he wouldn't have to open a container. I'm saving him time. Again, practical and efficient.