Yesterday, we had our first real snow of the year. Ok, well maybe I wouldn’t classify it as a real snow. It was only an inch or two of accumulation and it didn’t stick around, but it was beautiful while it lasted. I have been super photo-lazy these days, so I didn’t get any good photos of it, but Michael takes pictures of the baby during the day and sends them to me at work. Some days they make me jealous, but these made me smile (though they did make me want to go home, crawl into my pajamas, and curl up with Evie by the window).
Mainly I love getting pictures at work because I like to brag up my hubby and all the cool things he does with Evelyn. Yesterday, he brought the snow inside so Evie could play…
And while I was driving to work this morning (I have a lot of time to think in the car) I started thinking about how I love to brag up my hubby and baby, but I also feel self-conscious about doing so. And then it made me sad to think about how women tend to judge each other and assume that a little proud story-telling means that we’re trying to one-up each other. A story about something terrible happening will elicit sympathy and commiseration, but a story about the amazing thing your baby did last night (gave me an unprompted kiss!) makes you one of THOSE moms.
You know what? My kid is awesome.
She started signing around 8 months and now she speaks about 10-15 words and says new ones every day.
She’s pooped on the potty twice.
She drinks from a regular cup.
She tries to put on her own socks.
She’ll request to be read a book over and over…and she’ll sit quietly and listen to it.
She’s slept through the night since she’s been 2 1/2 months old.
My husband rocks too.
He does all the laundry and dishes and has dinner ready for me when I get home from work.
He’s incredibly patient with Evelyn and provides great learning experiences for her.
He rubs my feet.
He puts up with my crap and keeps me sane.
But, you know what else?
When Evelyn gets startled or upset, she holds her breath until she passes out…sometimes several times a day.
She’s not walking yet.
She screams at me when I try to change her diaper.
Michael likes to bring up controversial political and religious topics at family gatherings.
His idea of clean is vastly different from my own.
He doesn’t hear about 75% of what I say.
He yells and swears like a sailor during football games and he’s near worthless on Sundays.
My daughter, my husband, and my life are not perfect, but I try really hard to focus on the awesome things about my life. And I want to hear about what’s awesome in your life too. Don’t get me wrong, there is a time and place to talk about those things that trouble us. Everyone needs sympathy and commiseration from time to time. But why does it seem like people always come together over shared negativity rather than cheering one another on? I’ll admit that I sometimes get caught up in life’s little irritations and I’ve been known to have a pity-party from time to time, but I also love sharing a good brag about my family, and if that makes me one of THOSE moms, I’m ok with that.