Thursday, May 6, 2010


I know where these thoughts have been coming from. It just took a while for it all to click. My synapses are failing to fire the way that they should these days. (That neuro humor is for you, Blythe) I'd blame mommy brain, but it's more likely attributable to chronic sleep deprivation. Anyhow, it finally dawned on me why I've had babies on the brain lately. A blog, not mine, but one that I follow, the writer of which just had a baby girl. CJane. You can find her through the link on my margin or here:

If I've not been organized enough to write a post ahead, I often find myself reading the blogs I follow in the morning, pondering the topic of the day. Well, as is probably fairly obvious to anyone who reads this, I've been thinking about babies lately. And she's to blame. But in a good way.

I had to laugh reading her post this morning. About how she is uncool and not at all put together in any way since having her second baby. How she feels sloppy and disheveled. I remember feeling that way. I've been down that road a few times. But that road of aches and leaks and sloshy cankles comes to an abrupt end at some point in the days or weeks after you give birth.

And when it does, whoa nelly.

I remember being delusional, especially the first time around. After being swollen and round for so long, once the baby is on the outside and you sort-of get your body back, you feel light and airy. No longer full of baby, plus now you have a really great rack. Once the waters receded and you have defined ankle bones again, you feel sexy. You don't just think you look good, you know you do.

You know how hot you are, how fantastic you look. That is, until some time passes and you find a picture that someone else took of you in that time period. When you were hot. Then you realize just how delusional you were.

Because staring back at you from inside that picture is anything but a hot mama. She's got bags under her eyes. Her hair is a mess. She still appears sort-of pregnant. She's not rocking that outfit, and she's got spit-up on her shoulder. But, damn, you thought you looked good.

I remember talking to a good friend about it at the time. Wondering aloud why no one ever tells you how much of a mess you really are. Why instead they always say that you look great. They're liars. All of them. They mean well, these liars. And really, you probably wouldn't want anyone pointing out what a mess you are. The pictures, however, don't lie.

Happy Mother's Day to all the hot mamas out there, delusional or not. You know you look good.

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