at one year i do believe it is time to pass on the new mama crown. once around the sun you’ve a bundle of days under your belt and you best consider yourself at least that experienced. the orbital chariot of sleepless nights awaits! time to trade in your babymoon cloak for some cool coveralls with a padlocked weaning zipper for those milk-less nights. the coveralls of my dreams are made of hemp silk with a pocket specific for every item i need to carry on my person for this next phase of toddling motherhood.
i would wear arnica on my right sleeve (right next to my unwed heart;), teething tablets on my left (right next to my rescue remedy;), a spit rag hanging out of my back pocket, a clean diaper with clean wipes and purification oil in my right cargo pocket, butt chap, cheek chap (two separate jars [you do the cross contamination math]) and nose wipes/snot sucker in the left cargo pocket.
two small silver spoons over my left breast pocket to aid in crushing any number of homeopathic pellets i would wear in a bulletesque cummerbund around my waste. currently we are enlisting pulsatilla, meteoric iron and aconite on occasion.
fingernail clippers on a chain clipped to my homeopathic belt.
raisins in me other breast pocket.
identification in my other back pocket just in case emma stops believing that i’m old enough.
let me know if you have any insight as to how i can improve this design.
a few cotton swabs for those moments you see lint in their ear and they aren’t moving maybe?
without one of these suits i am often without the right item at the right time and a lot of the time i pretend that i am a clown mom just so i can navigate through the chaos, confusion and inevitable failure. clowns thrive on that ship. clown mom loves it when the hydraulics (or whatever the help you call them) that hold the back hatch of your vehicle open stop working due to the incredibly cold weather and the whole door comes crashing down on your head first thing in the morning. people pay good money to see clowns stage concussions (and for peanuts). even funnier when clown mom turns right around and smacks her forehead on a bunk bed when she’s trying to pick up her crying daughter. ha ha clown mom. ha.
later during the performance, clown mom lost her dog in a snowstorm. ha ha ha ha ha.
the adventures of clown mom are now over because i started to feel like i was making up one of those ‘deep thoughts’ by jack handy from saturday night live. i know, there are indeed worse ways to feel though in the interest of words made manifest, i would like to reboot the baby suit, suit up, simmer down and loose the clown.
here are a couple members of my family circus having a little cello dance party.
Palace Salon 