I love you all the time

Little Corcoran will be here in less than four months. And this baby, while he will be as loved and cherished as Declan, hasn't made quite the impact on my psyche as Declan did. There's just nothing like being pregnant for the first time. Everything was about me. I did exactly what I wanted when I wanted. I felt completely entitled to any emotional outburst or demand because I was going through something so profound. We agonized over Declan's name, took all kinds of classes, and I studied up feverishly on all things baby. I made my birth plan and researched cribs. Rich and I planned out how we'd tackle the first weeks. I spent hours and hours picking out baby bedding. The baby was ushering in a whole new world of things we'd decide and every decision was a huge one.

There was nothing as transformative for me as the year after Declan was born. And while I spent the first few months in the new mom perfection bubble trying to do everything I so staunchly believed was all important: breast feeding, sleep training, cuddling, and I'd even try to read my two month old books because I read that if I watched TV with him it could stunt his mental growth. This was my time. These were my decisions, and like when I was pregnant, everything was a do or die decision, everything was of the utmost importance.

And I think that's where the mom superiority thing comes in. You know those moms who spout their convictions like water, thinking their opinions are facts because they read them somewhere. They create hierarchies of good and bad parenting based on what a book tells them, and you only hear about it when they need to inform you of the "right" way. Oh, I think you know who I'm talking about. It's inevitable with such an important task that it becomes a consuming, polarizing experience that for some evolves into lecturing and a laughable haughtiness that can only come from a mother.

And the biggest thing I've learned in the past two years is what kind of mom I am. And, how to adapt to circumstance. My son is a flaming ball of energy, love, and demands. And I think if I'd have clung onto the idea of any kind of perfection, I would be miserable. I just don't do perfection, I don't have a perfect body, or perfect hair or completely groomed nails all the time. Why would I expect myself to completely transform into some idea of what is the "best" way to be?

So, this time around, my newborn will probably be "enriched" less but will have the benefit of a mom who can see the wisdom of imperfection, adaptation, and going with the flow. Yes, Declan was the only naked swimmer (with a life vest) at a play group this week and he did make a firetruck siren sound at the top of his lungs through Dillon's yesterday, but fighting those things takes more than it's worth. At least that's the kind of mom I am. I pick my battles. And, frankly, I lose some of them too. But at least what my kids will get is something genuine and not someone else's idea of perfection.

And just for some giggles, the next Justin Timberlake: