This isn’t the life I had planned for myself.
When I was going to college and figuring out what I wanted to do with myself, cleaning prunes out of my hair wasn’t on the short list of career goals. I was imagining show openings and thinking about Gala balls and gorgeous gowns (I was a vocal performance major so this wasn’t too far fetched). Instead, I traded in extravagant costumes and nights out shmoozing for easy access t-shirts and nights in with a 10PM bedtime. I thought I would be stressed out over memorizing arias but instead I wring my hands over the rarity of my son’s bowel movements (hence the prunes…). I thought I would be in Florence right now, sitting in the shade of a piazza cafe and watching the street performers. But I sit in the shade of my carport, watching my son eat his first strawberry as he stares at me over the rim of his pack n’ play.
Nothing about my stay-at-home journey has been glamorous. I rarely wear makeup, I chopped all of my hair off, and a structured cocktail dress is out of the question (because how am I going to get my boob out to nurse?). But even though this isn’t the life I planned, it’s the life that was planned for me. This little guy was meant to be here. And I would trade late night rehearsals, Italian gelato, and minor fame for midnight snuggles, drooling toothy grins, and the honor of seeing my eyes in the face of my son.
Happy Mother’s Day!
Chapter three 