I remember when Roman was born and I was so nervous. I was, of course, nervous while pregnant and then once he was born I was nervous that I could no longer protect him with my body. He was a free little squid who floated about in the arms of our loved ones.
I used to have this irrational fear that everyone who held him was going to trip and fall, squishing him and he would die. It was much more brutal and gory in my head and it used to keep me up at night. I would picture people falling on me while I held him and the results were the same. Squished. A book on a high shelf would certainly fall off and pelt him in the head. A pair of scissors in the pen jar on our book shelf was going to get launched into the air and land in his soft-spot and he would die. I was convinced! I was a nervous wreck and the post-partum anxiety that I had only made it worse. I used to have to force myself to push the thoughts out of my head. I just wanted to snap him back, stuff him under my shirt and protect him from everything, all though I was dying for ten minutes of peace and quite alone. I used to force myself to let people of importance to us hold him, because how many times have babies really been squished to death like in my head? How many scissors have flown off of shelves and hurt babies? My "calm-Mom" gameface was working overtime and the urge to protect him was fierce, but deep down a tiny part of me knew that he was okay. I knew that my sister would throw herself in front of a bus before letting anything happen to her little Munchie Cow. I knew that Dustin was probably better at protecting Roman than I was and that I'd never seen him trip and face-plant ever, so why would he start now? Why would my Mom be around flying scissors?
I think that force, the maternal urge that wanted (and still wants) to protect him at all costs is something that every new mother goes through in one way or another. It is one of motherhood's most important and natural instincts - to protect - and that's why I've spent the last four hours of my Friday night researching car seats because Ro is growing out of his infant carrier with a quickness. Long gone are Friday nights spent at the movie theater making out with Dustin. I don't even care, though. One of the many pros of being a grown up is getting to make-out whenever you want. I don't even have to buy popcorn anymore to get some sweet teenage groping.
Back to the car seat, my super-curious little boy is going to love sitting up a bit higher like a big man. He does baby crunches every time I strap him into his current car-seat while trying to look out the window. Always looking, following, learning. He's a little Sherlock Holmes -- clues are everywhere. He need a baby-sized note pad and a bubble pipe.
I'm pretty sure that I'm going to get this car seat soon, the Graco My Ride 65, although, I love look of the Graco Nautilus. The latter says that a 20 pound kid can sit front facing... I thought you had to be two years old? Maybe I'm missing something... I'll probably get the 65. Anyone have any luck with either seat?
Growing up and turning into this woman who stares back at me in the mirror has been such an adventure. I can't believe that I'm going to be 28 years old in a few months. That sounds so old to me. That's almost half-way to 60. When I'm 60 years old, Roman will almost be turning 33. He will be older than I am now. He will be protecting his own babies from flying scissors and books that hurt and people who face-plant. The thought just entirely blows my mind.
For now I think I'll just stick to protecting my little baby and picking out car-seats.
Life is beautiful, guys!
p.s. I think it's about time that I update my banner.