Don’t You Judge Me

“Don’t you judge me” is my new mom motto. As much as I think it, it should be tattooed on my forehead. Or maybe just printed on a T-shirt for me to wear every single day.

This morning a plumber came to install a toilet and a sink in our master bathroom. He didn’t look like any plumber I’d seen before. He was missing a beer belly and that famous plumber’s crack…thank god!

Having any kind of handyman in the house gives me anxiety. So it’s safe to say I was a big ball of awkward. Throw a tired, cranky baby in the mix and I was even more on edge.

Naturally, the plumber showed up right when my daughter was to take her morning nap. Lately I’ve been putting her down while she’s still awake so she can learn to put herself to sleep. She usually cries for a couple minutes before conking out. I’ve become immune to those cries.

Sure enough, as soon as I closed the door behind me, a wail erupted from the depths of her bowels. A scream I’ve never heard before. Someone was surely torturing her. That was the only logical conclusion. So I went back in. She was fine. To the contrary of her screams, no-one was killing her. I placed her back down and told her it was nap time. As soon as I left, the same god-awful shriek.

It’s not enough to allow a stranger into your home to judge your living conditions, but now that I’m a mom, my parenting skills are on full display and up for debate. I just knew this guy was judging me as an unfit parent for letting my baby cry. But what he doesn’t know is that’s how we roll.

She was asleep within a minute, and I could finally exhale.

Needless to say, she woke up 40 minutes later thanks to the plumber banging around in the bathroom.

As I signed the check over, holding my daughter on one side, he looked at her and said, “So that’s the little one who was crying. Never knew such a loud sound could come out of a tiny person.” I wanted to give him my best “Don’t you judge me” look, but like always with these guys, I just gave a nervous laugh and said, “Yep. That was her. Not a fan of napping.”

See, if I had that tattoo or that shirt, he would’ve gotten my message loud and clear.

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The Top 5 Things I Realize Now

The Top 5 Things I Realize Now That I’m a Mummy

1) Boobs are Overrated. It’s not like they can cook you dinner or wish you a happy birthday, so why all the fuss? Why did I wish I’d wake up with the chest of a Victoria’s Secret model when I was a teenager? We’ll blame TV and the media. Now I realize that fun bags are just that–fun to look at for 5 minutes then they’re just…there. And now that I’ve experienced both worlds, I’d rather go back to how they used to be! (Maybe that’s #6–appreciate what your Mama gave ya!)

2) It’s Not About the Stuff. For months before I had my baby, I’d obsess about all of the things we needed to have before she arrived. The crib, the obnoxiously expensive rocking chair and baby bouncer, the clothes, blankets, beanies, and nursery decor. Who knew babies needed so much crap! But they don’t…it was me thinking I needed the crap. The baby gets here and poops and vomits on everything and you wondered why you cared so much about all the stuff.

3) Date Nights Are Crucial. Romance isn’t something that comes easily after eight years of marriage, and it was the last thing on my mind after giving birth. But now I realize that making time for just the two of us is more important than ever. Plus, it’s nice to clean the poop from under your fingernails, change into something that doesn’t smell like sour milk, and go out (even if you’re just pretending not to think about your baby every 10 seconds.)

4) Judge Lest Ye Be Judged. I used to get annoyed with screaming kids in public. Who wouldn’t, am I right? I used to hide in nearby aisles, grumbling and vowing that I would never be that mom. But I realize now that the mom of the temper-tantrum, shrieking child is going to be me one day. Luckily, my baby hasn’t made me sweat too badly yet, but I know it’s a matter of time. And I hope when that time comes, people will not be so quick to judge but will offer a knowing smile instead of a scowl.

5) Chores CAN wait: I like a clean house. I like organization and order. But I LOVE my daughter. Sometimes I panic that time is going by too quickly and why am I wasting all this time with dishes and dusting? Do I want to look back and remember having a clean house or remember the day we rolled around on the floor laughing and playing with her toys? Don’t get me wrong, I don’t want to be on Hoarders anytime ever, but I realize now that the dishes will still be there tomorrow while my daughter will be a day older.