Once upon a time there was a pregnant woman who spent a rainy October evening, delivering the most charming and delightful baby girl you would have ever seen. Little did she know that adorable munchkin was a ‘poopie machine’.
As time passed the sleep deprived mother started to lose herself. She fell into a routine: feeding, burping, pooping, napping. Repeat. She would sneak her phone into the bathroom in the hope that she may be able to have a quick catch up on Facebook. She sat in her car humming to Barney on the radio. She talked all day in the third person, “Now if Mommy sees you doing it again, Mommy is not going to be happy!”
Her social life wasn’t so social like in the ‘before times’. While her pre-baby friends trekked across Europe, went to impromptu lunches and partied all weekend, she got super excited and danced because her most precious baby in the world went potty.
She had lost herself in the pile-on of responsibilities and it didn’t matter. If your day consisted of being attacked by angry Silverback gorillas, hers would probably trump yours. But it just didn’t matter to her because when she exchanged her Prada bags for Baby Bjorns she didn’t don mommy pants. She didn’t make it to impromptu dates with her friends but she hosted carefully planned cocktail parties for the ladies and play dates for their babies.
Her sleep-deprived, housebound-new mommy state of mind drew positive energy from those moments of joy with her little ‘poopie monster’. She had new meaning in her life that no amount of trekking could bring.
She was a Mother.