For the past three months Jack has exhibited various behaviors associated with teething: drooling, gnawing, rosy cheeks and the occasional fussing. Every flashlight examination of his little gums so far showed no evidence of teeth until Sunday, on the way home from our weekend in the Wisconsin Dells.
Jack bit Daddy. And like everything Jack does, it was so precious I nearly cried. Seriously, as I was driving down 94 from Madison towards Milwaukee, I nearly bust out into tears because my son was getting his first lil' teeth.
I fear I'm becoming "that mom." The one who thinks that everything her kid does is the sweetest, most precious thing on earth. The one who believes every milestone (carefully photographed and catalogued) is evidence of her child's genius. The one who thinks that her child's loud wailing at a restaurant is cute. ("How sweet, he's singing!") The one who blogs (and tweets, and Facebooks) about silly little moments, like the discovery of brand new baby teeth. I'm trying not to go down that road, but it is a slippery slope.
I've already become the mom that absolutely goes grape nuts over little tiny babies (have you ever said ZOMG THOSE CHEEEEKS! out loud? I have). I already must stop at every Gymboree and Children's Place to check out the sales. I never wanted to become that woman, but here I am, lookit me SQUEE-ing over newborns. Clearly I'm just steps away from being the mommy with a shirt that says "Jack's Mommy" on it. I don't want to be that mommy. I hate that mommy. She's lame.
They say parenthood changes you. I was expecting changes, sure, but not like this. I'm totally gay over my kid. And I'm not really sure I want to change that.