I don’t know what it is. This two year mark coming up on being a mother is somehow similar to how I felt when I moved from junior high (now called middle school — yes I’m old) to high school.
It may not seem like much of an accomplishment on the outside. To the cool kids of the world I probably still look like an awkward, unkempt 12-and-a-1/2-year-old wearing purple eyeshadow and a bulky watch that does not go with my ruffly graduation dress.
But on the inside I feel like I am a new woman. I’ve figured out how to shave my legs without bleeding and the possibilities with boys are endless!
In all reality, I feel like I have passed the first big test and the first major hump of being an attached parent.
If parenting is brain surgery, attachment parenting is neuroscience. It’s not just looking at what is there, it is looking at what could be there and trying to make sure that good things happen and bad things don’t.
I’m not trying to debate the differences between mainstream parenting vs attachment parenting. But let’s face it. The reason many people choose not to do certain things like, breastfeeding, co-sleeping, avoid sleep training and wear babies is because, it is fucking inconvenient. It’s physically and mentally challenging. And it lasts longer. It’s hard on your back and neck.
It’s also emotionally tiring because in some cases people not only have the regular challenges of parenting, but they also have to defend their choices (or feel like they have to) to judgmental family members and/or friends and sometimes even their partners.
We will be celebrating Annika’s second birthday one week from today. Last year, on her first birthday I remember feeling some sort of milestone, but she was still a baby. She wasn’t really walking yet, taking little steps here and there. She was still babbling. She still nursed for most of her nutrition. She still needed me 150 percent of the time. She was still a baby.
But this year, man oh man, the second year has flown by. My neck is still hurting from the whiplash of this year. Or, hmm, maybe that’s from the pretzel-like positions I’ve been sleeping in for the past two years.
This year on her birthday she is not only walking, but running. Man that kid is gonna be track star. She is talking in complete sentences. She can count to 17, if you don’t count 14, 15, and 16. She knows about 12 percent of the ABC’s depending on the day. She sings. She laughs at jokes. She defies me. She tests my patience. She forces me to grow as a human being. She makes me examine myself and see where my strengths and my weaknesses are. Oh, the weaknesses!
So yeah, the two-year mark is not just a milestone for me. It feels like I’ve been running and running around the track and I finally got to the first hurdle. And I made it over.
So come on y’all and give me some high fives! Next up, the slutty phase. Can someone please teach me how to put on lip liner?