- Mothers Intuition We all have it. Men, specifically, Dads don’t have this sixth sense. The cough that wakes you up out of a dead sleep, the cry that tells you your baby needs to nurse, the phone call to the advice nurse because your baby isn’t feeling well, etc. etc. For three months now, I have been working with my daughter on her verbal skills. We do a lot of creative play in the mornings (we call it “school”) to help with her communication. I also taught her 50-75 signs, which has been very helpful in determining her needs, wants, concerns and feelings. My daughter just wasn’t progressing, even with all the work I have been doing. I finally buckled down and asked our pediatrician for a speech evaluation, against my husband suggestions who thought our daughters speech delay was a result of the use of sign language. Within 25 minutes of this speech assessment, I saw the phrase, “Child has significant speech delay”, followed by some other words but I can’t remember them. I was focused on these five words. I knew it, it wasn’t just me being a paranoid Mom. My mother’s intuition was right, Our daughter needs assistance with her speech. (The speech therapist actually commented on how well my daughter signs and told me to keep it up as sign language is an avenue for communication, not a crutch as my husband suggested.)
- Pregnancy: I am pregnant. I want food. Don’t take a bite of my fucking food! When I was pregnant, I was so consumed with nutrition that I would cry if I threw up (gotta love 23 weeks of morning, noon and night sickness) and I would burst into tears if my husband took a bite of my sandwich. I was on a mission to feed my child, I had 40 weeks to put as much vitamins in my body as possible and this fucker just took a bite of my sandwich. My husband just could not understand why I would be so emotional about him taking bites of my food. Maybe its animal instinct in me, maybe I was a nutrition nut…who knows. But next time I am pregnant, back up and away from my plate. I WILL bite your hand. Consider this a warning.
- Childbirth with an Episiotomy: What a beautiful word, right? Doesn’t it just sound so warm and cozy? NOT! I would love for men to experience one, just one. During the birth of my daughter, I was lucky enough to get a stage 4. Yes, that is pretty much the worst of the worst. 23 hours of hard labor, I was given every drug in the hospital and then had my under carriage cut from there to there. Men have NO idea what kind of pain is involved in this. They especially feel awesome when you are sitting 90% of the time after you give birth. I would love for men to have just one, just to experience internal stitches and how great it feels to heal after pushing a watermelon out of something the size of a grape.
- Why I Cannot go to bed without checking on our baby, just one more time: He thinks I am insane, but for some reason, I cannot go to bed at night without checking on our daughter just one last time. I go in every night, look over the rail on her bed, brush the hair out of her face with my fingers, get her “favorite Ny-Ny” and place it next to her face, tuck her back under her blankets, check her rails on her big girl bed- make sure they are secure, check her window make sure it’s locked and then once I feel good about it, I leave the room. Its like a nightly ritual. My Mommy friends say they do the same thing.
- Acne: Men always get the long eye lashes, the fast metabolism and the most beautiful skin. Today my daughter said “Momma Boo Boo”. No honey, its not a boo boo, its a humongous zit that now has its own zip code. You know its a whopper when a two year old notices it. Here I was thinking it would magiclally disapear because I’m pushing 30 and no. God hates me. I must suffer my whole life. Thanks genetics!
- The feeling of solitude I get from knowing my daughter ate her whole plate of food: Its like the biggest complement when my daughter eats my cooking, well, lets face it, it’s not the best. It often sucks. I will admit that! But this Mommy can bake her ass off, and my peanut butter and jelly sandwiches are the bomb! So when my daughter eats a full dinner and her belly looks like Pooh’s, yes, I am a happy camper.
So Moms, what are your five wishes that men could endure? Am I forgetting anything?
The Chronicles Of Motherhood 