Maternal Instincts

When I was pregnant, I kept waiting for someone to demand some sort of extended resume or completion of a diaper strewn obstacle course to prove that I was actually up to mommyhood.  At least once a day, I still look at Hamilton and think, "Wow, that's my little boy.  Am I really doing this?  And who exactly is letting me do this?!"  So, my reaction during a recent earthquake only added to my underlying worry about being a good mom.

I was doing laundry (ok, good sign so far...), and Hamilton was sitting in his room playing with his toys.  I suddenly started feeling a little woozy and tried to remember if I had eaten that day.  Then I noticed that the washing machine was pretty wobbly.  "Hmmm," I said aloud, "I didn't notice this was so unstable" and then proceeded to try and rock it some more.  Suddenly it hit me: This is an EARTHQUAKE!  And then I thought, "Hamilton!!"  He happened to be playing near an unsecured bookshelf, which would have landed right on him had the earthquake been stronger. I picked him up and stood in a door frame (thank you elementary school training) and waited until I was sure it was over. My maternal instinct test score: F.  Yikes.

Other low scoring maternal instinct tests: forgetting his sunscreen, formula and not packing any socks on a recent weekend trip, dragging him to XC practice when he really needed to be napping, not noticing a nickel on the floor until it was in his hands, and considering taking off his life jacket in a boat because he was so miserable.

I'm trying, though, to focus on the times when I do well on the maternal instinct front.  The other week I slipped on our stairs while I was carrying him.  I somehow managed to focus my falling energy on saving Hamilton, simultaneously holding him extra tight and lifting him up, so he wouldn't land on anything...he didn't.  The day Travis left he was tickling my very ticklish little boy when Travis decided to also get the carrier of the extra ticklish gene: me.  I pretty much lose control of my body the moment anyone even threatens my neck or armpit area.  Travis was kicked and punched often during our childhood as a result.  Somehow though, I kept holding Hamilton as safely as could be. Travis was duly impressed...which actually kind of makes me concerned about the risk he knowingly took when he went for my neck.  In any case, I felt the darkness of the earthquake moment lift a little.

To balance out my low scoring moments, here are some higher scoring ones: fixing Hamilton's pants after Ashley pulled them up too high (yuck!), skipping practice yesterday so Hamilton could eat and sleep at home, realizing that Hamilton can play "catch" now and playing it with him, buying a UNC onesie (one of the first clothing items I bought for him), knowing when it's time to put him down for a nap (most of the time), not caring when Hamilton threw up all over me in the airplane--I just wanted him to feel better.

In reality, I'd be a little disappointed if I were a perfect mom.  When I slipped on those stairs, I immediately thought of when my mom fell down icy stairs while holding Travis (he was fine, but he would only let my dad carry him from then on).  So, part of me was startled, but another part of me thought, "Hey!  I'm just like my mom."  Perfect.