I don't want to turn into one of those moms -- the ones who obsess over each milestone, accomplishment, pound, sneeze, belch, and poop that the little genius makes. Or rather, doesn't make. You know the ones.
I am always flattered when people comment on Bird's abilities, appearance, and/or personality. I don't find that I toot that horn often -- except for when David, Bird, and I are alone together. That's when I gush with abandon. The first time Bird successfully pincer-grasped a cheerio and got it into his mouth you would have thought he won an Olympic gold medal from the way I reacted. Even Bird looked at me with a "what's wrong with you" expression on his face as he gummed that cheerio into submission.
So, I try not to proclaim Bird's greatness to others. By that same token, I try not to compare Bird to his peers and reveal any areas where Bird might be slower to achieve. I want Bird to be Bird and to be healthy and happy. I remind Bird often that though I am educated, somewhat bright, and have some experience with kids, I am a Rookie Mom. Rookies make mistakes. Rookies lack wisdom. Rookies tend to get excited and not always keep their head in the game.
My rookie mistake du jour is freaking out about the stages that a "normal" and "average" baby is supposed to reach at certain ages. I try not to obsess. However, I do have a baby book that I reference now and again ("chicken pox;" "bowel movements, color of;" "fever;" "feeding, starting solids;" etc.) and we have a pediatrician who gets out his checklist and asks us questions point blank: "Does Bird do this?" "Have you seen Bird do that?"
And then, of course, I also drop Bird off in a room full of his peers every morning and pick him up in that setting every afternoon. Let me just say in my defense, they post the first names and birth dates of all the babies on the wall and I have learned the names of most of the babies and it's hard not to wonder about your 9-month-old who can't pull himself into a sitting position and does not crawl when a 7-month-old is crawling a circuit around him.
I can't help but worry. It's what I do. I started worrying about Bird even before I saw the flicker of a heartbeat on the ultrasound screen. (For those who do not know me, I should note that I am a worrier by nature. This motherhood thing has served only to heighten my abilities.)
So I am working on not worrying. I am working on focusing on the positives. I am working on not comparing Bird to every baby born within 6 months of him. I am working on being Bird's Mom, and not one of Those Moms.
UPDATE: I started this entry on January 15. Bird successfully pulled himself to a sitting position in my view twice on January 20. He then also clapped in mimicry of his father and me. Not that I'm bragging or anything.
