I never appreciated how much competition there was in the world of parenting. And I guess it makes me sad in ways I hadn’t thought about before. It’s so easy to look at someone else’s baby and see how supposedly perfect they are, and sadly miss how perfect your own baby is too. Yet, at the same time, there is just no such thing as the perfect baby. Unless there’s some kinda Perfect Baby store that I don’t know about (maybe this is where stork babies come from? Or maybe Cabbage Patch babies).
Of course, I think Noah is perfect. But at the same time I know he isn’t. We’ve had several more Code Brown* moments which really don’t smell like roses. His scalp and neck are so very dry and spotty. Cradle cap is slowly causing the boy to go insane, rubbing his head on anything to try and scratch it. His lil’ butt, legs and back are a fascinating bright blue from his Mongolian Blue Spot. I could go on, but there are the things I enjoy about him which far out-weigh the things that could be seen as flaws.
No matter how tired or pissed off I am, his smile makes me want to hug him. His frown makes me laugh. He has awesome huge hands; I’m hoping he might play the piano. He snores like a kitten purring and sighs baby noises in his sleep. He’s learning to put his fist in his mouth. Again I could go on.
I could also go on about other people’s babies too. How they’re so precious when they look so tiny and fragile. How you’re able to hold them and they don’t mind being cuddled. How they’re progressing to playing with toys or anything else nearby. Making efforts to roll over, or speak to you. How they’ll grin when they see your own (frowning) baby.
I guess what I realise is so important is that no matter how great someone else’s baby might be, it’s always so good to be proud of your own. And I’m so proud of Noah. I don’t care that he’s the size of a dumper truck. I don’t care that I often change his clothes several times a day as a result of Poopgate. His head is dry spotty and scaly? All the more opportunity for me to rub cream into his head and watch him drool like a lil puppy. I’ve learnt to appreciate him and I know how important that is to him considering I never got anything like that when I was younger.** I always hope that I can make him feel like the most wanted and loved baby in the world.
* I hasten to add, a Code Brown is not just your average everyday poopy nappy. No no no, a Code Brown is when the world ceases to exist because the poopy nappy has just taken it over, and become your mother. And also, raped your butt.
** My mum is now awesome.
