Yeah, so, I’m pretty sure when I announced I was pregnant there were a lot of people that thought I wasn’t really the mothering type.
Some of my friends thought I wasn’t acting happy enough during my pregnancy, and Kaiser red flagged me as a possible binge drinker. True story. I wondered if they were both right. I didn’t really think I was the mothering type, but I knew mighty, mighty good man David would be a mighty, mighty good dad, so I wasn’t too worried about it.
Now, the Spawn is 18 months old. He’s a happy, healthy guy, who laughs a lot, and I think I’m a pretty good mom. I don’t think I deserve one of those “World’s Best Mother” mugs or anything, but I do all right.
Right now, The Boy’s favorite toy is a stuffed blue bear. This blue bear goes everywhere with him. The bear goes to the store, the park, etc. He goes to the nanny share during the week. Every morning, Calvin lines up all his stuffed animals, like he is deciding which one is going to go with him to the nanny. He gives them all kisses, but he always picks the bear. Since the bear is so very loved, he is so very dirty and ripped and gross.
Last night, after The Boy went to bed, I took out my little sewing kit, and I fixed the bear’s ripped arm while I watched the San Francisco Giants beat the San Diego Padres (Yeah!). Then I got a warm soapy wash cloth and scrubbed that bear clean. I don’t want to brag but check out the before and after photos.
He looks pretty good, huh?
After I mended the bear, I set him on the table in the living room, because I knew Calvin would run into the living room first thing in the morning to look for him.
I showed off my handy work to David: “Seriously, I think this might be the most motherly thing I’ve ever done. I should change my Twitter profile to say, ‘Writer/Editor/Mocker/Mender of Stuffed Bears.'”