I do what I said I would never do

Admittedly, before Joseph was born I had this deranged idea that once I had the baby I would just maintain my same self completely and be the same ol' me, just with a baby. WRONG. I also had certain things that I would "never do" as a parent. I've done most of them. Here's a list of things that stick out in my head this morning as I think back to those naive times...

1. I said I would never let the baby sleep in the bed. Okay, we've done pretty good with this one. Luckily we have a little fella that falls asleep hard and fast and doesn't wake up until morning. However, some of those mornings he's up with the chickens. Now, I'm laying in bed listening to his grunts thinking that I've got 12 cases in court, a DWI trial and an appellate brief to write . . . if it can get me an extra hour of sleep, he's in the bed. Sue me.

2. I look at sexy and/or unpractical shoes with disgust. This might be a hold over from pregnancy that I will grow out of. Before there was Joseph there was cute shoes - heels pretty much every day. Certainly every day in court. Those who see me on a regular basis during the day may be familiar with my "mental home slippers." They are these ugly black house shoes that I got at Belk's that look like standard issue at Dorothea Dix. I got them to wear to drop Joseph off at daycare so as not to fall on my rear in the parking lot while trying to carry him and all of his acoutrements. They were supposed to stay in the car and only come out for said purpose. They have never lived in the car. They live on my feet. I wear them to daycare, and then to my office, and then to the courthouse where I change into my heels in the elevator before I see anyone (just like Superman). They hang out in my briefcase during court and are back on my feet upon departure. I generally change back into my heels prior to any client meetings, unless said client(s) are too drunk/stoned to notice/care. I tried to upload pics of my Dix kicks, but apparently that function of blogger is broken today. You'll have to wait.

3. Messes really bother me. This has got to be a phenomenon of nature. I've always been kind of neat. Now my skin burns at the very sight of something dirty in my house. I wish I could chill out about this because I really don't have time to deal with it. I don't mind other peoples' messes. I am envious of those who don't mind their messes. I had to hire someone to come clean the house because the messes and lack of time to clean were stressing me out. I am going to let it get atrocious between the days the lady comes and practice being less concerned. (Drew is now breathing a sigh of relief). Oh, I am stressed just thinking about it.

4. I do not like shopping for myself. This really isn't a huge change from before, just more pronounced. I haven't really enjoyed shopping for clothes for several years and I can tell you why. First of all, I'm cheap. Second, I never have any time. You're wondering how these are related. If you want to find a bargain, you have to hunt for it. I walk into a store and like the clothes displayed. However, I refuse to pay the full price for the nice things on the front racks. I don't have time to go pick through the clearance stuff in the back. See the dilema?

5. Romance. For Valentine's Day I got 2 travel coffee mugs, one of which is proudly displayed alongside my Dorthea Dix shoes in a picture I can't get to upload. It was per specific request and all I could have wanted. Drew got a book about zombies. I feel no need to elaborate.

5. Finally, I am going to be "that" mom. Folks, I'm slowly turning into that organic-lunch-packing, mini-van driving, obsessed with child's cleanliness and general appearance, volunteer in the classroom, holiday sweater sporting, Costco shopping, teach two-year old Spanish, visor-wearing, ban sugar cereal soccer mom that I said I would never be. I really don't know what else to say about this. This all hit me a few weeks ago when I found myself taking flowers to Joseph's daycare teacher for her birthday and then spending an inordinate amount of time describing to her Joseph's nuclear clock-like eating schedule. (Which I am also practicing being less concerned with). I also get embarrassed if he runs out of diapers or clean bibs at daycare and they have to write it on his sheet.