It’s a paradox perhaps, but one of the most important motions of my Stay At Home Mom’s life routine is, actually, that of going OUT of the home at least once a day. All through my first year and a half of motherhood, The Daily Walk has been my anchor to sanity and it had to rain fucking stones (or ninja stars) for me to agree, very rarely, on skipping it.
Going out with a baby is a bitch. It’s one of those slow, lonely processes, dotted with foul-smelling obstacles in the shape of last-minute dirty diapers, and the necessity to wear something else than your pajama (although, as you can easily imagine since the birth of my son I’ve been out in my pajamas more often than I got laid).
One week ago today my Little Man accomplished the first full year of his breathtaking little life. There have been balloons and window festoons, cakes candles and bubbly wines. The event has been celebrated thoroughly. Mama even played “Happy B*Day” on her bass to accompany the choir of teary aunts and proud grandpas: everything has been lovely and emotional like no other occasion I can think of.
But they say that when a Child is born so is a Mother, and therefore one week ago today the disheveled New Mom that I have become accomplished the first full year of her breathtaking and somewhat erratic little life, too.
[cause if you keep them in the drawer with the intention of preserving them from stains of excrement or vomit, waiting for that special occasion to wear and show them off, here’s the hard truth: when that special occasion will finally show up, they will have become way too small to be ever worn at all. Continue reading →