Between the lack of sleep, the harsh heaviness of what is happening around the world, and feeling like I've got no more figured out about parenting than I did when I became a mother, the week felt harder than my average week.
Within the midst of such frustration, there were also a lot of hidden bright spots, all of which were easily visible when I simply made the effort to look for them.
Here are five of those things:
1. Along with my best gal, April, I'm hosting some college girlfriends for our annual "Mama's Gettin' Lit" holiday party. This year I had the genius idea to enforce a strict dress code, requiring people look as lit as they were going to be after they drink a few rounds of the cocktail I'm making. The only issue is that I am the opposite of fancy; I dress like a teenage boy most days (errr... all days) so when I say that I had nothing to wear, it's literal and minus hyperbole. And what does one do when a viable excuse warrants buying a new dress? You definitely don't ask questions or wear your denim cut-offs non-ironically. Nope. You go and buy yourself a new dress, dammit, because, contrary to popular belief and even though my everyday uniform says otherwise, I do enjoy feeling pretty. (But not too pretty, you know? I mean, I do have a reputation to uphold.) And so, I began my search, asking myself, "Hmmm, if a dress could be my spirit animal, what would that dress look like?" Surely, it would be a mustard velvet flutter-sleeve maxi wrap dress that is one part sexy, one part bohemian, and two and a half parts comfortable. Then, by some combination of good luck and ancient wizardry, the deep seas parted and the world wide interwebs provided. Ladies and gentleman, I give you my Spirt Dress. #mamastillgotit
2. My co-hosting partner-in-crime, April, came over last night to help do a little party prep (i.e. drink red wine and eat Justin's peanut butter cups while passing her newest baby, Collier, back and forth). Mo has been begging me for the past five weeks to meet the newest addition of our tribe and, since my ovaries were due for their weekly maintenance test, clearly I had no other choice but to oblige her. As April and I watched Mo melt into a puddle of love while holding Baby Collier, I couldn't help but think, "For fuck's sake, Mo, why couldn't you be this sweet and cute and care this much about babies when it was YOUR OWN LITTLE SISTER IN YOUR ARMS?!?!"
3. When she finally stopped being so damn selfish and gave me a turn with my baby boy (I mean, April's baby boy), Mo grabbed my phone from the couch to take a picture of me holding Collier. When I looked back at the picture she took this morning, it hit me just how natural holding a newborn will always feel. Their distinct smell, the way their legs tuck into their stomach and their body curls into your arms like a puzzle piece finding its' match, how you subconsciously begin gently swaying as soon as the weight of their body rests onto yours, and the tiny grunts and lip quivers... they're just intoxicating. And dangerous. It doesn't matter how far removed you are from the newborn stage, once you have become privy to experiencing newborn goodness, there will never be a time when you're able to deny their magic.
4. Joe conveniently flew into Vegas from London for a few days spent with his best college buddies and a whole lot of whiskey and Carolina basketball. After the week I've had with the girls and their less than stellar sleeping habits, I have six words for you (and by YOU, I'm looking at you, Joe): GIRLS WEEKEND. CHARLESTON. ROSE. ALL DAY. Make it happen.
5. And as far as The Ovarian Status Update, I am here to report that my ovaries are violently quivering and have asked to take the next couple of days off in order to recover from the beating they took last night from Mo and her tiny love, Collier. Ovaries A and B spoke loud and clear, telling me that torture by way of witnessing Mo hold and gush over a particularly handsome cherub is unnecessary. On behalf of their entire reproductive system, Ovary A would like to add that Mo slyly mentioning that she "wouldn't mind one bit if you have a little boy because this one is kind of cute, mama..." is akin to torture.