So it was Mothering Sunday in the UK yesterday, unfortunately Ryan didn't take the bait when I asked him four days ago which Mothers Day we should celebrate, thinking I might be able to score two separate gifts when it rolls around here in May.
I'm new at this whole motherhood gig. And I think like a lot of mothers out there, I'm making it up as I go along (and I don't mind admitting that either). When I was pregnant I was filled with angst that I might not actually be any good at it. It's not like this role comes with a manual or instructions and I don't have an annual review or anything (or God help me a mid-year review to check-in and see I'm on track and handling the "pace").
One thing is for sure, hands down, no word of a lie; being a Mom is by far the most rewarding, challenging and fulfilling role I've ever had. It surpasses being a wife, a sister, a daughter and a friend by miles. Don't get me wrong, I love being all those things to but when I was little the only thing I ever wanted to be was a Mom. I didn't want to be a vet, or a teacher, or a doctor (for a brief period I wanted to be a Cabbage Patch kid but that never really stuck). I would daydream about having a little boy and calling him Todd ('Santa Barbara' was a very popular soapie back in my day and Todd was one of the main characters who was involved with a very young Robbin Wright long before she married a Penn).
I didn't become a Mom when Oscar was born, it all began when I found out I was pregnant. And so did the guilt that I was already a bad one when I'd have a cheeky glass of wine or a hot bath. During my pregnancy I'd daydream again about what our child might be like (thankfully Ryan vetoed the name Todd) and Oscar has completely surpassed all of my expectations. He is already a little character of his own making. He's in a predictable routine. He loves people and started 'talking' when he was around two and half months old. Like me, he gets frustrated easily but thankfully he's more like his Dad and perseveres through his daily arduous 'tummy-time' routine. He has different cries which we are now fluent in translating. He loves seeing faces he knows in photos - thank heavens for small portable smartphones with galleries that can hold thousands of these little suckers!
Oscar loves tress, having had his first proper sighting on Leisure Isle some weeks ago. The bigger the better. He will stare, open mouthed, at these tall unusual green things for ages. He loves the wind blowing in his face. The stronger the better. And he knows the difference between my hairdryer and the real McCoy.
Oscar dislikes drinking water unless it's from a syringe because this means it turns into a bit of game. And out of all of the toys, stuffed animals and interesting things he has to play with, he prefers sucking on his burping towel and cuddling up to it as he sleeps. He still gets a fright when either one us sneezes. And he's not sure about whether it's a good idea to laugh out loud or not because every single time he's tried he's ended up with the hiccups. Oscar finds fishes and lava lamps fascinating (I must point out that these two items where not found together, as one would expect, in the basement office of a seedy nightclub set of some bad-taste-made-for-tv-Mafia-oso movie).
Oscar understands what "it's all gone" means when he finishes his bottle but still decides to throw a fit because he just loves milk that much but never does this in public (which I'm eternally grateful for!). He loves bath-time and is still undecided about mid-morning nap times because sometimes they're great and sometimes they're not. He's still in-love with his reflection in the mirror on his play gym and will talk himself to sleep. And when he can't sleep because he's had a busy day, he prefers to be put on his side and have his back gently rubbed.
Being a Mom means you get to know all these little things about your child. And each child is so unique and different. One thing I have learnt is that the things Oscar might like today and tomorrow, he might hate all together by the time a new week roles around. That's how fast they change.
My best times of the day are in the evenings when I can watch him sleep, in the mornings when he wakes up and is so excited to see us he wriggles his whole body and every single moment in between.
And I won't know if I've done a good job or aced any annual reviews until Oscar is bigger and has grown into a well adjusted, kind, thoughtful adult who contributes in some sort of positive way to this world we live in. And when I watch him sleep I think about what he might end up being one-day and like all mothers, I know that as long as he's happy, not living on the street and eating out of a dustbin then he'll be fine.
But I want him to have a remarkable life all the same.
I don't love being a mother. I love being Oscar's mother. There is a difference. And any other mother will know exactly what I mean.
PS: Oscar is definitely his fathers child to, he has a distinctive 'type' and prefers to save all the charm and gummy-smiles for pretty, leggy attractive types.
