Holy Responsibility, Batman!
So, what’d you do this weekend? Mow the lawn? Maybe read a good book? See a good movie? That sounds like fun. Know what I did? PICKED A CHILDCARE PROVIDER FOR MY UNBORN CHILD! You know, cause I’m, like, gonna have a child. Who needs care. From a provider.
Holy. Responsibility.
We have been thinking about childcare pretty much since the day we found out we were pregnant. As much as I would like to think I could, I would never be able to be a stay at home mom. Mortgage payment aside, I just don’t have the discipline. If I know that I have all day or week or month or year to get something done, I’ll wait until the absolute last minute to do it. My house would never be clean. My laundry would never be done. My fridge would never have any groceries. All because I’m too undisciplined to pull myself away from What Not to Wear long enough to accomplish anything productive. My family would never win if I was a stay at home mom. I’d be completely worthless. Needless to say, the option of me staying home was out of the question.
That left us with daycare. And then, lo’ and behold, the day after we started looking at daycares, a co-worker tells me that his wife is starting a home daycare and was I interested?
Was I interested? Does the Pope wear a funny hat? Does my ass look huge in spandex? Do my dogs eat poo? OF COURSE I WAS INTERESTED!!!
So, this past Sunday Chris and I spent the day over at the “prospective caregiver’s” home. Man, was she fantastic. She’s only taking on 2 kids. She has the cutest little house ever, with 2 matching little girls that may or may not have conned me into buying 15 boxes of Girl Scout cookies while I was there. She’s quiet and sweet and smells like vanilla and I just can’t imagine anyone better. She made her home daycare seem so appealing that for a second I thought maybe if I paid her extra some days, I could just spend the day with her, too. She had cheesecake squares in her fridge for God’s sake!
A little bit into the conversation, she started making comments that confused me. She’d say things like, “You can just tell me what kind of napping scheduling you want him on….” or “Just let me know what kind of formula you want him to use…” or “I’ll be able to call you if he’s ever sick or needs anything…”
I had to fight the urge to look around behind me as she was talking. Did she mean to imply that all of these decisions were mine? As in, I would be determining a sleeping and eating schedule? And I would decide what he ate? And I would be the “in case of emergency” person? I looked at her hard for a few seconds to be sure, but she was dead serious.
She thought I was a mom!
And then it hit me. I’m going to be a mom! One day soon, I’m not just going to be a pregnant lady with a bean in her belly. I’m going to be a mom with a son. A M-O-M with a S-O-N. Whenever there is a question about his routine or his health or his personality, people are going to call ME. And they are sort of going to assume I’ll have an answer.
Shut the front door! Whatchu’ talkin’ ’bout? LOOK AT ME!!! I still eat Lucky Charms cereal! I still hide parking tickets! I still wear socks with rainbows on them! I still laugh when someone says penis! I can’t be a MOM!!! I’m ill-equipped. I’m irresponsible. I’m immature.
But, it looks like I have no choice. My beaner is growing inside me like a weed. He’s getting bigger and pretty soon he’s going to want to come out. And he’s going to be hungry. And sleepy. And poopy. And someone is going to have to take care of all that. And I think that sort of works like hot potato. The last person to feed you through an umbilical cord it IT. THE ONE. THE MOM.
Holy responsibility!
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12 Comments
Jenn Ford
“I still laugh when someone says penis!”
I giggled just reading that.
Lori
Aaron and I still haven’t found daycare–nor have we even started looking. Yeah, we need to get on that…
And you are mature! I mean, you’re married, own a home, have a job, have some pets.
And I am 30 and still watch cartoons and enjoy a rousing game of Mario Kart now and then, so you just go ahead and enjoy those Lucky Charms–I don’t think they will have an ill effect on your mothering skills 🙂
maureenlynn
You know what’s really good? CHOCOLATE Lucky Charms. They are pretty much the best ever. And now I want some. MMMMM…
Colleen
Gosh you made me laugh so hard with the ‘do my dogs eat their own poo? ‘ Thank you for keeping us laughing with all these really big decisions. And congratulations for actually making them. Isn’t What Not To Wear an guitly pleasure? How is anyone supposed to get anything done when they have the marathons?
Sarah
Don’t worry Katie! Little M.D. will help you figure his schedule out. Or, if you’re like us, we never really had a schedule. : )
Sarah
Oh I forgot to finish that thought…. we never really had a schedule until Emma went to daycare, and then they made the schedule for us. ( hee hee) I had no idea what I was doing either.
archiveslives
YOU’RE the emergency contact! That would scare me, too.
goodbadandugly2
Well, until you are popping out more at a time, (in the hopes of getting Chris to hang out with you) I think you are doing ok, responsible wise. (inside joke—you had to be there)
Whitney
Oh these thoughts cross my mind all too often!! You mean IIII am allowed to be a MOM?? Hmmmm, this could be intersting. 😉
Mom of one
wait till you actually know the answers and then you realize ‘holy shit.. i am responsible for this other person’.. but it still hits me every once in awhile… ‘i’m a mom.’
Emily
3 months in, and it is still really weird when people say things like “Sam’s mom blah blah blah?” or if I have to call some place and say “My son Sam…blah blah blah” OH, just wait till your own mom asks you what to do with your baby. SO weird. Like my mom will say “Do you want me to hold him since he’s sleeping or put him in his crib?” Helloooo, YOU’RE the mom! OH, wait, no.. that’s me! Holy crap!
Jennifer
I have a 7 year old little boy, I my eyes welled up just reading this post. I still can’t believe I am the one who has to make these decisions. Then on the other hand, I wouldn’t trust anyone else to make them. The “not grown up factor” never goes away, I think I just get better at pretending to be grown up. However, now I think he is catching on. Dang honor roll students!!