Tiny Advice For New Moms

From an emo lady.

The other day, I met someone with kids, and I asked her how old hers are - her daughter had just turned 2. Then she asked how old mine are, and I was weirdly speechless. Mine are turning 7 and 5 at the end of this month. Seven and Five! I almost couldn’t even say it. I remember when my kids were babies, even up until the biggest one turned three - when I met someone with kids five and up, I was like - in awe. Wondering what it would be like to be out of the baby stage, wondering how cool my kids would be and how free I’d feel and how relatively easy mothering would be.

5 and 7 is still little - totally little - but the toddler phase, the baby phase, all of it is over, and I’m done having babies. They’re learning to read and reading independently, learning to ride bikes, swimming on their own. They can walk up to the fridge and get a thing of yogurt by themselves. They can peel a banana, take themselves to the bathroom, my son likes to text his friends (I let him compose a text and send it to the mom). I’m living in the stage that I looked forward to most, and I’m super duper aware that these are the golden years. When their palms are still padded and soft, and they still grab for me in the dark, in the middle of the night, but they can also tell me what they need, tell me a joke, play “two truths and a lie” with me at the dinner table at night. Phoebe’s arms are still gummy and soft, but her legs have lost their creases. She can shoo me away when she doesn’t want to be held. And my son has stopped loving my hugs and kisses at morning dropoff - he gives me a cool Bye mom, and he’s off.

They’re on the brink of being big kids, and there’s novelty in all their newfound independence - I feel proud of them rather than hurt when they don’t desperately need me. But I know that novelty will wear off, they’ll start shutting their doors, keeping secrets, I know it’s all coming, and I know that these years will be the ones I miss the most. I’m not a baby person, if I’m allowed to admit this, I couldn’t wait until they weren’t real babies anymore - I couldn’t wait to have what I have now.

Like I said, they’re still little, and really, I don’t know what I’m doing at all, but I do now have seven (SEVEN) years of experience as a mom, and I’m out of the tiny baby phase, and I’m feeling weepy about it, so please indulge me in my itty bitty breastmilk-colored pearls of wisdom/advice.

My first night home with my son, he was three days old I think.

#1 YOU HAVE TO TRY TO FUCK THIS UP

When your baby is brand new, you’re going to flip out about everything. Sleep training, binky on the floor, organic diapers - all of it. But the truth is, you kind of have to proactively TRY to fuck them up (provided you’re attending to their basic needs and are gentle…of course). You won’t get everything “right” - you might not get ANYTHING “right” and as long as you’re getting some sleep, and your baby is getting fed, and nobody is crying at 4 in the morning because they’re pumping and cleaning pump parts while the baby sleeps even though you know the kid is going to be up again in an hour because BREAST IS BEST…. you’re doing a great job. Formula is fine, and it doesn’t even have to be the European organic kind. We fed my son Similac and he’s perfect.

As an add on here, my son wouldn’t breastfeed, my daughter wouldn’t take a bottle. For the whole first year of her life she got the tit - it was Covid, and I couldn’t go anywhere. Neither is smarter, more resilient, more beautiful than the other - I realized when I was going through this with my son, the only person who really cares about how the baby is fed is the mom. Your dr will tell you fed is best, your partner won’t give a shit, it’s nobody’s business, honestly, except your family. I made myself insane about nursing my son, truly it kind of ruined his babyhood for me, so if I can give you any super sincere piece of advice, if I could hold your hands and gaze into your eyes I would say…..it doesn’t matter. As long as the kid isn’t going hungry, it truly does not matter.