This is the last day of my 20's. Officially I will be a 30-something tomorrow A new age bracket; a new bubble on surveys; a new decade. A new start.
My 20's were great. But the best thing to come of my 20's, the thing that gets four official slots (pregnancy, birth, existence and staying home with her) is.... Samara. Is anyone surprised?
It is hard to remember how I occupied my time or spent my money before her. She has usurped every part of my existence.
I will never be one of those enviable earth mother women who speak of breastfeeding, pregnancy and childbirth as though they felt at one with all humankind. There was a little of that (very little). But mostly I have wanted my body back to myself. I have remained rooted in the physical experience of it and hated losing control of my body, abandoning my clothing and not being able to run. And now? Now I want to be able to wear clothes that do not unsnap or button Superman style to allow immediate access to my breast. I want to be able to leave the house for more than two hours at a time without worrying about whether I pumped enough.
But there is nothing annoying about my daughter. I sometimes feel guilty about her good nature, as though I need to invent things that are wrong with her to relate to other mothers. She smiles easily and often. She sleeps 12 hours a night and usually naps at least three more. She loves 4-mile walks in her stroller, rarely complains about anything and can entertain herself for long periods of time.
For those ready to kill me, let me assure, I'll have my comeuppance--especially now that I have written about it. There is probably a massive green poop leaking all over her clothing and the crib right now. Thanks, avocado. If not, I'm sure I will get a truly terrible two-year-old or a nightmare teenager. Perhaps my second child will channel Rhoda. I know this. But for now, I am grateful. She has eased my transition into motherhood. Somehow she intrinsically knew that borderline mama was not prepared to battle crying fits, late nights or constant neediness just yet. Someday I plan to give that girl a popsicle for all her sugar and spice. But for now, I will just tell the world. She rocks.
Thirty is just a number (shout out to R Kelly). Having Samara was my true ticket to adulthood. But she is also my pass to eternal youth. We have a decade of slip and slide, merry go rounds, cartwheels and ice cream trucks ahead of us. And I can't wait.