Day 201: Guilt-free and loving it

Well, I'm exhausted. What was supposed to be a relaxing and rejuvenating weekend away with the girls was corrupted by too much wine and late night Balderdash - yes, I know, we're crazy - and I came back more tired than I was when I left. But it was worth it to spend a bit of baby-less time with friends and enjoy some adult conversation. I think we managed to cover all the essential and pressing topics, from skinny jeans (which few of us would dare to wear) to Matthew McConaughey (who we all agreed is a bit off his rocker and in need of a shave and a T-shirt) to whether Meredith should be with McDreamy or the vet (this one was split down the middle). Oh, and of course the coming nuclear threat and global warming, too.

It was the longest I'd spent away from Mads - two whole days - but it was good to get a break. Your world kind of closes in on you when you're mom to a young baby, and getting away lends some necessary perspective. I have a tendency to think of Maddie as a somewhat difficult baby (in the decidedly more positive language of baby books, she would be called "spirited"). She knows what she likes (bottles, her Baby Bjorn, Baby Einstein dvds) and what she doesn't (strollers, car seats, bouncy chairs, tummy time, swings, rockers, vegetables that aren't orange...) and she lets everyone else know it as well. Getting this girl into a car seat takes monumental effort. As soon as she sees she's headed for the seat she goes into a state of advanced rigor mortis - knees locked, arms stiff by her side - and screams bloody murder. The trick is to keep her bum down while administering a light karate chop to the back of the knees and then somehow manipulating her little limbs into the straps. All this while she wails like a banshee right into your ear. The stroller tends not to be much better, which is why I end up Bjorning her everywhere we go, casting envious glares at moms happily pushing their little ones along and thinking, "Why can't my baby be that easy?" Of course I overlook the possibility that the happy-go-lucky baby in the stroller may be up seven times a night while Maddie sleeps peacefully through till morning.

The thing about being a first time mom (baby book language: FTM) is that when things don't go according to plan it tends to be interpreted as an overwhelming personal failure. The other thing about being a FTM, of course, is that pretty much nothing goes according to plan. And so you're stuck wading in a constant pool of guilt. But being away for a couple of days helped to make the obvious clear to me: maybe everything is not my fault. Maybe the fact that she loses her mind at the sight of a car seat is not a reflection of my poor nurturing skills or retribution for the pack of Rolos I "borrowed" from the corner store in grade 7. Maybe she just doesn't like it; no reason, no solution. I'm sure that tomorrow I will go back to blaming myself for her intense and vocal hatred of creamed corn, but for now I am enjoying the freedom that this realization brings.

As a sidenote, in our travels we discovered a local children's author and illustrator named Dianna Bonder who is amazing. And if you're wondering about the picture accompanying this post, I returned home from a run (okay, okay, it was the third one in the past six months, but still!) to find Maddie apparently working on the art of traditional Inuit drum dancing. How's that for advanced? Take that talking babies.