Now, eight years into motherhood, where each day is filled with more chaos and exhaustion than the last, the idea of having the energy or inclination to maintain such a detailed record seems unfathomable. It prompts me to reflect on several other actions I took as a new mom that I can hardly believe.
First, I kept that poop log.
It’s hard to grasp that I was that dedicated. I suppose it makes sense, considering my anxiety levels—arguably the highest I’ve encountered (with the exception of my sister). Yet nowadays, I can barely remember to jot down a grocery list.
I also can’t believe I managed those late-night feedings.
By the time my second child arrived, I had lost my touch. My spouse would often find me dozing off with a baby nestled against me, oblivious to the world around us. Now, on a good night, I relish sleep from around 10 PM to 6 AM, and the thought of waking up to care for a newborn seems ludicrous.
Moreover, I cringe at the memory of waking up before dawn every single day.
Sleep has become a treasured commodity in my household. My little ones now cherish weekends, relishing the luxury of sleeping in instead of being uprooted from bed at the crack of dawn for school. It’s hard to fathom that I once embraced finger painting at 5 AM as a regular occurrence.
I also can’t believe I dedicated time to making baby food.
While I admire the effort, I honestly don’t know how I managed it. These days, with hockey practices filling our schedule, a soft pretzel from the snack bar often suffices for dinner. Occasionally, my Kindergartner requires a promise of an “all snack” dinner—which must include a cupcake—to get out of the car during morning drop-off. Just last night, I’m unsure if either child had a proper dinner, making it hard to imagine the time I invested in peeling, steaming, pureeing, and freezing organic fruits and vegetables.
Lastly, I had a portable toilet in my car.
Many aspects of motherhood remain unspoken, such as the lengthy and often arduous potty training journey, which can stretch from a few days to several years. During this time, my child developed a strong aversion to using any potty that wasn’t the one at home or the foldable version stashed in the backseat of my minivan parked at the preschool.
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In summary, my experiences as a new mom are a blend of bewilderment and nostalgia. From obsessive record-keeping to navigating sleepless nights, every moment has shaped my journey.