Day 260: Ah, those special moments of motherhood

Before I had a baby I like to think that I had a fair amount of dignity. Some class. Dare I say it - a bit of grace. Okay, so maybe the grace part is pushing it. But you get the point. Most of that rapidly disappeared during the birth of Maddie and in the weeks that followed, where I spent most of my waking hours in my pyjama bottoms with my boobs hanging out for more than a few poor unsuspecting visitors and passerby to see. I remember sitting in my living room one day when Maddie was only about a week old and Fernando said, "I never thought me, your mom, and your naked breasts would be in the same room." It was an odd realization. Since then I have managed to keep myself covered up for the most part, but there are still many moments where I find myself doing things I never thought I'd do, things that sometimes make it difficult to hold on to those remaining shreds of dignity. So consider this an ode to all of those other mommies out there who look in the mirror at the end of the day to discover they've been walking around with a smeer of baby poop on their cheek...

I would like to meet the mom who doesn't bury her nose in her baby's diaper at least 5 times a day to check if that odour she's emitting is the real deal or just a bit of gas. I doubt she exists. I often find myself thinking, as I immerse myself in the potpourri of poop, that surely there must be a better way of doing this. There have been countless times I've been out in public - at a restaurant, at the store, at a friend's house - and have scooped Maddie up and aimed her bum at my face. No matter how hard I try, it's hard to retain any sense of style or class at that moment.

I have yet to discover the secret to successfully clipping a baby's fingernails. Poor Mads has little baby claws on her and is always scratching herself. She'll barely sit still to take her bottle, so how I'm supposed to restrain her long enough to give her a manicure is beyond me. I know what you're thinking - she weighs 18 pounds and I weigh... slightly more than that. I should be able to contain her. All I can say is try it and you'll see. They're slippery little things, and she fights me with every ounce of her 18 pounds. So anyways, this morning I found myself biting off her jagged little nails. Biting somebody else's nails - now that's the kind of day-to-day stuff that no one tells you about life with baby.

Maddie spends a lot of her days being chucked around by Fernando or I - affectionately chucked, of course. It's one of her favourite pasttimes. The other day I was lying on the floor holding her over my head; she was squealing and kicking her little legs about when out of her mouth escaped a giant gob of spit. It came at me in slow motion, closer and closer until - smack! It hit me right in the mouth. The sad part is that I didn't even try to dodge it. I just watched it fall, felt it hit, wiped it off, and kept on playing. I guess spit, in comparison to her other excretions, isn't all that bad.

Not quite the special moments of motherhood you imagine, perhaps, but memorable all the same.