I have some friends who are adopting.
Once their home-study was done,
the agency reminded them that it could take a very long time to be picked by a birth-mother,
so it was best to not get their hopes up.
4 weeks after that conversation,
they got a call that they had been chosen,
and by the way,
“The baby is due in a week.”
All along they thought they had more time to register, have a shower, set up a bedroom, choose a name.
Instead they are in overdrive now,
preparing for something they never expected would happen so soon.
I smiled yesterday as I looked through their online registry.
I smiled at all the things they needed, remembering my own babies so small,
and I smiled at the things they don’t know yet that they won’t need at all.
I thought about what kind of sage advice I’d give these new parents-to-be if they asked me,
thinking myself so seasoned;
So wise.
I put away the registry in time to put my own kids to bed,
and while doing so,
my youngest handed me a book.
I read about 8 pages in to “Rappy Goes to Mars,” when Rappy the Raptor declared he
“really didn’t give a hoot”
and my daughter Paige stopped me dead in my tracks.
ME: “…She said that I was kind of cute.
I really didn’t give a hoot.”
HER: “Wait. WHAT?! *placing hand over page* We can’t read dis book.
It’s so inappwopwiate.”
ME: “Inappropriate? Why?”
HER: “Right dere.”
*pointing*
“He says he ‘didn’t give a hoot.”
ME: “What’s wrong with that?
It means he didn’t care.”
HER: “Dey shouldn’t just be talking about BOOBS in a kid’s book.
He just said da word for boobs and so we shouldn’t read it.”
ME: *closing eyes for a very long time*
“Um. Paige. That’s HootERS,
and that’s a whole different thing.”
PAIGE: “Well, So what is it, den?
I saw it beside da road dat day we went to Costco, and Daddy said it was a pwace we couldn’t go cause it was all just boobs.”
And that,
my friends,
is when I spent my child’s precious bed time story moments,
instead,
explaining exactly what Hooters is.
Because of course.
There I was, so seasoned, so wise,
being STILL completely thrown off guard by something nearly 20 years into my own motherhood.
Earlier that same day, this same child
– jewel in my crown –
had come to me in Walmart carrying a mini shovel.
She held it up with begging eyes.
When I asked her what she thought she would do with that shovel, she answered,
“I’m gonna become a gold digger.”
I’m sure you can imagine my pride.
So much I didn’t expect…
I never expected how much of the time I’d spend wishing they would just, FOR THE LOVE, go to sleep.
I never expected how much packing school lunches would feel like some kind of nightly motherhood internment camp.
I never expected how many times the things they said while in a public bathroom stall with me would have me wishing teleportation was a thing.
I never expected to have to explain that public bathroom feminine hygiene product dispensers were not actually a game,
and just because a package fell out when you turned the knob does not, in fact,
mean that you won.
Also, that’s a pad and not a sticker so please take it off your shirt.
I never expected I’d ever say the words,
“We don’t lick the giraffe enclosures” at a zoo, but friends, indeed I have.
I never expected that when you have a baby you are basically signing up to do homework assignments for 13 more years.
Tonight as I messaged this Soon-to-Be Mom and I checked in on her,
she told me that she had never felt so stressed out and happily excited before.
I smiled once again thinking,
“And therein lies being a mom.”
There has truly never been a wilder,
more surprising, stressful, hilarious, rickety, amazing thing;
And you are never EVER “ready.”
If only registries never ended.
If I could register for what I feel like I need today, with a seven year old, two pre-teens,
and my oldest about to get married,
that registry would include
duct tape, wine,
and a very thick book of liturgical prayers.
What do I think these friends need to register for?
Wipes, gas drops, a crib that vibrates, restaurant gift cards, and 20 trips to the spa.
That’s just the Starter Pack.
And what advice do I give these precious souls just starting out?
Take deep breaths,
Put on your game face,
and
Expect the unexpected
until the end of time.
Mom Outnumbered
Hi! My name is Kerri Green; Wife to Justin, and mother to four highly entertaining daughters -Alena, Chloe, Tessa, and Paige. I am an artist, a writer, a daycare provider, a lover of people, a believer that there is humor and beauty in all things, and the author of Mom Outnumbered; a blog about real family life, and my observations of it. My goal is to make people laugh, to be there for them when they cry, and most importantly, to let them know that they are not at all alone in this up and down world. I live with my family in Sebastopol California, and I am opening the window into our life. So welcome! Come in. Sit down. Just please don’t mind the mysterious wet spots.
