My children had to learn that parenthood is forever and
ever. Once a mother, always a mother. And the only real way to figure out if
you really want children is to have a couple. Then it is too late to change
your mind.
Now my grandchildren are learning the same lesson. They’re
also learning that just because they successfully raised one child past
teething and potty training does not mean the second one is going to be a clone
of child number one. But then why should it e. We, as parents, did not raise all
our children alike. Heaven forbid! Give us come credit for learning from our
mistakes.
Every “day one” of a pregnancy is different. When I found
out I was expecting child #1 I rushed out and bought a whole wardrobe of cute
little maternity clothes. When the doctor confirmed I was pregnant the second
time, I wore bigger tee shirts and held my jeans together with a shoe lace.
Works pretty good if you tie it into the button hole and wrap it around the
button about a dozen times. With the third child, I didn’t bother with the shoe
lace, I just used a diaper pin from the first child. (Some of y’all might not
remember diaper pins but there was a day when disposable diapers were a thing
of the future).
And the baby’s name…with the first baby we looked the ink
off the baby name books and practices pronouncing and writing all the
combinations of our favorites. Second child we simply had to name her after
Great Aunt Gert. We gave thanks her middle name was acceptable. With the third
one we found the baby name book under the sofa, opened it up, closed our eyes
and pointed.
With the first baby we practiced all that breathing stuff
until we had it down to perfection. Second time around we didn’t practice
anything because it didn’t work with the first one. Third one, I asked for an
epidural in my seventh month.
Clothing was another thing. First time around I pre-washed
all the baby’s clothes, coordinated everything from socks to pacifiers. With
the second one, I checked to see which clothing was clean and discarded the
ones with the worst yellow stains. The third one, I wondered if it was all
right for a girl to wear a Dallas Cowboy’s onesie home from the hospital.
First child could whimper and I’d have him in the emergency
room. I had the doctor’s office phone, his home phone and that fancy car phone
number all memorized. If my baby was crying, I didn’t care if they had to call the doctor away from the
Presidential Inauguration Party. Second child, I did pick her up if she wailed
loud enough the neighbors started turning on their lights. The third one? I taught
number one to wind up the swing.
Read to your child. That’s what the books said so I did with
number one. After a guilt trip provided by the grandparents, the second child
got read to exactly three nights before she was five. By the third one, not even
Mother Theresa could lay a guilt trip on me.
So now it’s time for the next generation to learn what we
already know and we’ll sit on the porch in our rocking chairs and smile, just
like our grandmothers did!
