One year with our sweet girl, as of this coming Monday. Cannot BELIEVE. How is that possibly true?!
In honor of our impending celebration, I bring you 15 things I’ve learned this year as a mom. Some are about parenting Rosie, some are about sibling dynamics, but all of them are lessons learned between 4/19/20-4/19/21.
Babies are different. Watching the difference between Mac as a baby (cautious, focused, not cuddly, steady, achieving) versus Rosie as a baby (wild as hell, no regard for her own safety, happiest baby in the world, a snuggle bug, does things in her own time) is just the tip of the iceberg, I know.
And their personalities seem cooked in. I’ve realized this year that parenting is like how Michelangelo described sculpting. He said it was “releasing the hidden figure from the stone in which it slumbered,” AKA, working to uncover something that is already there and has always been there. In some ways as parents, we have a lot of influence (encouraging kindness, nice manners, what we expose our kids to and when, etc.), but those core traits? Boy, they are baked in from the START. We’re just “releasing the hidden figure.”
Mac is the sweetest big brother. I knew that his heart was very tender and loving, but seeing him in action as a big brother has been nothing short of cry-your-eyes-out precious. He introduces her to everyone we encounter and makes it his mission to keep her safe. The best example of this is that Rosie loves to stand up and shake this particular side table we have so that the lamp sitting on it starts to rock back and forth. Mac has recently started going to the opposite side of the table and holding it in place so the lamp doesn’t rock, allowing Rosie to experiment, but finding a way he can help protect her in the process. I mean, come on. (A caveat here that he also pushes her down for no reason - he’s a sweet boy, but he’s still a 3-year-old).
Dads and daughters. I hate to be gender-specific because that’s not really The Thing right now, but there is a very special connection between parents and children who identify as opposite genders. Rosie has loved Jordan in such a special way since the day she was born and he sang her Jimmy Buffet songs. Her first real word was “Dada,” (RUDE) and she lights up like a Christmas tree when she sees him.
Nothing reminds you you’re a feminist like having a daughter. I was before, but I am newly inspired to hustle in my own life and work because of Rosie. Yes, I want Mac to see his mom succeed, but I want to be an actual blueprint for Rosie to follow whatever dream she wants. Our house has filled up with books like ABC What Can She Be? and Rosie Revere, Engineer! Obviously Mac is reading these, too, but we are all about some girl power in this house.
Having two children adds weight to your social responsibility. I have never been more committed to equity and justice than I am as the mother of two small children. I see it as my highest calling to raise these babies to be radically kind, loving, and to subvert any agenda that would oppress or discriminate against groups of people in this country. I try to limit the amount of “self-help parenting” stuff I listen to (mostly because I think there are a lot of knuckleheads out there who’ll say whatever they’re paid to say, but also because too much information is almost the same as no information - you can’t retain it), but I’ve recently found a great podcast I trust called Raising Good Humans. This episode about raising anti-racist kids really spoke to me (it features anti-racist educators Tiffany Jewell and Britt Hawthorne) and I left it feeling empowered and excited about my takeaways.
Speaking of education…one of the things on my mind lately is making sure that our children receive a high-quality education, but also (and maybe more importantly) an education that exposes them to people who look and live differently than they do. I grew up in a very racially diverse public school system in Decatur, Alabama, and I can’t say enough about the positive impact it had on me. Asheville can be very white, and I don’t want my children surrounded by only white people. I’m learning and working through the best ways to make sure I haven’t surrounded them with only white folks. It would be an easy thing to let happen by accident where we live.
Food is a journey. Mac and Rosie both eat like ice road truckers at the end of a shift. I have never seen babies who eat two fried eggs, a banana, and a tub of baby food for breakfast each day. It seems…impossible? And yet, it’s not. Right as Rosie has started her “any and everything” eating, Mac has transitioned to being a little more selective. I refuse to be a short-order cook, but sometimes that means we default to a “bath time Larabar” (shamefully a real thing) because we’re still feeling hungry after dinner. Things are a mess. Food is hard. We’re doing our best over here. Rosie is eating absolutely everything she can find. Including non-food items. Like chalk. Is chalk toxic? I honestly don’t know.
Children, um…repeat the things you say. The number of times Mac has said, “Damn!” is…well, a lot. It’s a whole lot. At first I tried to ignore it so he wouldn’t realize it was a Thing and then do it more…that failed. Now he says it regularly (and by the way he’s using it exactly right, which makes it that much worse/that much funnier. “Mom can I play with dinosaurs in Rosie’s room?” “Not right now, buddy, let’s let her have some quiet time.” “DAMN!”) and I’m gonna have to figure out what to do with him. Probably should start by not saying, “Damn,” huh?
Redheads are a special breed. Y’all…it is HYSTERICAL to me that I ended up with a red-headed daughter. About once a week, Jord and I look at each other and just say, “Can you believe this?” So many people have shared stories about their babies who had red hair to start and ultimately grew out of it. She certainly might! But y’all, her eyebrows and eyelashes are red. That’s gotta mean something. Truly wild and so fun. Her energy and her spicy little personality have been present from before she was born - she was very opinionated and gave me an extremely uncomfortable pregnancy (I dislodged a rib with Rosie, had bronchitis, terrible migraines, and a lot of less-savory symptoms I’ll keep to myself), which was a precursor for her very stubborn, wild, and joyful presence in the world.
Second children are nearly invincible. Sure, she cries when she gets pushed down or hurts herself, but because they’re born into chaos, second children are borderline mythical in their ability to manage nonsense. I remember once, when Rosie was about 6 months old - we were at my parents’ house, and somebody pulled up in their car which caused both dogs to bark in this REALLY loud, startling way - Mac screamed as loud as he could, it was a mess. My dad said that through it all, Rosie sat completely unbothered on the floor. Didn’t even blink an eye, he said, when the madness ensued. And this is evidence that…
Birth order politics are absolutely a Thing. First children are fussed over, catered to, spoiled with attention and peacefulness. Second and later? Whatever. They’re rippin’ cigs by the time they’re 6 months old. This is why younger children are so much more well-adjusted than their older siblings. (As an oldest child, married to an oldest child, who’s also the daughter of two oldest children, I consider myself an authority on this matter.) We’re not freaking out over every cry or potential hazard, which makes them calmer. They’re born into loudness, which makes them better able to cope with life. Our focus is already split when they arrive, meaning they’re carrying the burden of performing or garnering approval. Rosie’s job is just to continue l-i-v-i-n, McConaughey style.
Rosie is a master flirt. Mac didn’t really care about other people when he was less than one. He was sweet and interested, I guess, but Rosie? WOWZA. My little homie has her game on lock. She is replete with head-tilts, huuuuuge smiles, coquettish waves…I have seen grown men who do construction for a living fall prey to her tiny power. It’s amazing, and we have to stan a queen.
Everything happens in its own time. With Mac, I was so hyper-focused on milestones. I didn’t mean to be, but it happens naturally when you have one child and he or she is the center of your world. Was he crawling on time? Walking? Talking? How was his growth charting? What percentile was he in? With Rosie, I have relished every month and not given one single damn about any of that stuff. I’ve appreciated her baby-hood intensely. I’m so sorry to see it go, but I know I didn’t rush it or wish it away, and that’s a good feeling. We really soaked it up.
She is one of a kind. This little red-headed wonder is a smiley, snuggly, easygoing, but also completely diabolical child. We joke that she’s lived many lifetimes before she came to be with us because her gaze is so intense and her manner is just…old. Wise. Shrewd. She knows what’s up. It really is like she’s been here before. When she was born, my very first thought upon seeing her was how bright and clear her eyes were, wide open - I thought to myself, “She’s really in there.” Where I felt like Mac and I got to know each other slowly in those first few days, Rosie busted into this world up with personality all the way to the ends of her hair. She is completely full of life and bursting with individuality. I cherish the chance I’ve gotten to watch someone like her, so different from my equally wonderful first child, navigate the world and learn the ropes. Or maybe teach the ropes, honestly - it feels like I’m the one who’s going to be doing the learning in this relationship.
Happy first birthday to my angel Rosie, named for her stubborn spitfire great-great-grandmother and her kind, hilarious, artistic uncle - embodying all of those qualities and then adding an ocean of her own. She is the cherry on top of our sundae, spicy and sweet, born at the heigh of a global pandemic, and a genuine thrill ride. I’m on the edge of my seat to see what happens next.