In this moment, can you ignore the fact my mouth was open (my mouth was always open) and that my hair looks like it was cut underneath a lopsided bowel and concentrate on all that is fantastic about this photo? Like the carpet. In particular the color. Burnt orange carpet? Yes, please. Wall to wall sliding glass windows? Yes, sir, I’d like some of those too. And that beautiful potted plant… What I wouldn’t do to pour some water on you. I won’t even mention the plaid tweed sofa cuz that would be too much.

The point of the photo is the baby in my arms. I always had a baby in my arms. Babies always facinated me. Becoming a mother was an easy transition and felt very natural. That’s not to say I haven’t learned things I didn’t anticapate learning, because I’ve learned a ton and none of it was anticipated. When I was a child pretending to care for a child, I knew nothing of what it actually entailed. Now I know a lot. Reality has a way of slapping the nasty truth in your face. So today I’m starting a little segment sharing tidbits I’ve learned as a mom. I’m encouraging everyone to share tidbits you too have learned as a mother in the comments below. If you are not a mother, feel free to share tidbits you’ve learned in watching others take on the role of motherhood. At the end of this little segment, I will compile your responses into a separate post: Tidbits of Motherhood: What You Had To Say. Here we go…

The five minutes of shut eye I get while lying on the table to have my eyebrows tweezed is my new version of a nap. I wish I were being sarcastic.

When I’m running errands by myself, I insist on turning the music up very loud. It matters not what’s playing, just that it’s load. The radio has blessed me with “My Sharona” twice and each time, I glanced upward to the mom gods and whispered “thank you”.

As much as I hate my role as the boss of the family, there is no two ways around it, I am the boss. Ho hum.

I no longer have my own car. This is not to say we don’t have two cars. We live in southern California. We practically have to have two cars. But, because of our members and their special munchkin seats, we are constantly swapping vehicles. I adjust the rear view mirror every time I get in the car and it never feels quite right.

We’ve adopted and named our own kind of parenting. It’s called humor parenting. And it works by conjuring up ridiculous ways to assign motherly and fatherly tasks. Like if Hoop has a shitty diaper, we both put our hands up, side by side, and simultaneously ask for a high five. Whoever he high-fives first has to change his shit.

When Willy has to wait in the car while I finish getting ready, I no longer make excuses. I’m a mom. And therefore I’m entitled to try on as many different outfits on my new mom figure as I want.

Your turn.