Amelia Bedelia and I went to the mall this morning, because I have barely left the house in the last five and a half weeks and it is starting to drive me a little infuckingsane. I intended to look at ridiculously expensive purses, which is what I have mostly decided on for the "hooray, you gestated and birthed an entire human being" gift that I am buying myself. (I am buying the "hooray, you gestated and birthed an entire human being" gift for myself for the simple reason that nobody else did. My campaign for new diamond earings was not successful.) (I guess somebody decided that a girl with four pairs of diamond earings does not really need another pair.) (God, I'm a spoiled little bitch.)
It finally hit me in the mall. I am a mother. You know what did it? The escalator. The escalator is no longer an option for me, I am an elevator girl all the way. I will likely not be on time anywhere I go for at least the next year. I can no longer leave the house without a carseat, stroller, diapers, wipes, changes of clothes, hat, sweater, burp cloth and blanket. I will frequently appear in public with spit up on my shirt because I either could not manage to change or did not have anything clean to change into. My new perfume is eau de sour milk. I will only shop for lovely, expensive purses if they start carrying them in Baby Gap and Gymboree.
My life for the forseeable future bears little resemblance to my life of 6 weeks ago. I was a little shocked by how little it bothered me.
Mia slept through the night last night, and this morning she laughed when I blew a raspberry on her belly. She is my gift.