campaign mom

why I love being a mom: reason #1

{Tentens and I were ENTIRELY over-due for one of these cliche' mommy-baby-mirror-self-portrait-thingies. So there. Done and done. -And done SPECTACULARLY... if I do say so myself. - I was having a REALLY good bangs day that day. Those days are getting fewer and farther between lately, so I'm glad I captured one. Oh, and add to that the ridiculously cute and very smiley baby? ...Yeah, no one is looking at my bangs, huh? Darn.}

Since some people think that mommy bloggers who claim to love being moms, and wives, and stay-at-homers, and like, "such as", are either 1. lying/sugar-coating or 2. just downright nuts {and in their defense, I just might be...} I have decided to launch a campaign to enlighten them and share my side of the mommy story.

{I DO eat {and BAKE} a lot of cupcakes, so maybe sugar-coating is inevitable, and I would be remiss if I didn't warn you that unicorns, rainbows and kittens may very well burst forth from your computer screens as a result of reading this... so consider yourselves warned.}

Last night, Ten woke up and would. not. go. back. to. sleep. At 2:00 a.m., after hours of rocking him to sleep, laying him down, have him start screaming, picking him back up, rocking him back to sleep, laying him back down, having him start screaming, picking him back up and rocking him {for like 20-30 minutes} back to sleep, and THEN holding my breath while laying him down... praying while laying him down, looking to the heavens and pleading "please let him stay asleep, please let him stay asleep, please let him stay asleep, please let him stay asleep, I will DIE if he doesn't just stay asleep...!" and then, right as his body hits the crib... he starts screaming... again.

Then, I had a "duh" moment, and thought "Why don't I just take him to bed with me?" Even if he doesn't sleep, he will happily squeal and poke my face and pull my hair for the next hour while I {who am completely exhausted and could sleep through a hurricane at this point} GET SOME SLEEP!

So, I picked him up, and carried him into my room. The SECOND we crossed the threshold to my room, he stopped crying. {Smart little stink.} And when I laid him next to me in bed...? Ha! ALL SMILES. Cutest thing ever. He does this amazing little *sigh* followed by a high-pitched squeal, and yeah, much to my delight, he did THAT about 20 times in a row. And then he pinched at my cheeks and eyes and pulled my bangs, like, really hard in an effort to pull my face closer into his so that he might take a big old bite, or at least just suck on a cheek bone for awhile... so I leaned in and kissed him all over the face and nuzzled down into the place between his chin and chest where there is SUPPOSED to be a neck, but really there is no neck to be found... just a lot of fatty deliciousness... and I made growly-eat-y sounds, and loud, squeaky-kissy sounds, and the giggles...ohhhh the giggles that came out of that boy...

And suddenly, 2:00 a.m. didn't matter anymore. {Okay, it was more like 2:45 by now... but 2:45 a.m. didn't matter anymore, either.}

And suddenly, the deliriously exhausted feeling that was threatening to eat me alive was replaced by pure joy. Seriously. Pure joy. {Because, you know, babies are like, 99% pure joy...and 1% poop. There, is that more along the lines of "keeping it real"? I said poop, and also acknowledged that babies do it. Does that drastically increase my street cred.?}

I passed out to the blissful melody of Tennyson's high soprano {he gets it from his Gaga} with kicky-feet drumming a separate beat all their own, and the occasional poke in my right eye. Awesome.

So, I love being a mom.
Go moms!
Stick it, critics. ;)