No. 84: How Much Do Babies Cost?
Let's tally it up || A Mother's Day Letter
Can I confess something to you?
I forgot it was Mother’s Day this weekend.
Well, I remembered it when it counted—while helping select a gift for my mom and counting backwards for the gift guide and reminded my kids to make an extra note on their teacher’s gifts to wish them a Happy Mother’s Day. But I spent over a week working on a letter that had been on my heart for months (think filler, botox, Ozempic…) before realizing only Wednesday night that this weekend is the 12th. It’s actually here. My writing is never perfectly polished, but I hope you read this with extra grace. With the last day of school festivities, there was no time left to write a new letter and I almost just stuck with my original plan despite the poor timing—that was, until I overheard a conversation while getting ready for a meeting.
No. 35 Forever Undergrad
The barrier to entry is incredibly low. Prerequisites are almost none. There are many different ways we find ourselves in the position and we are declared professional within seconds of meeting our child. The nurses didn’t consider that I’ve never cared for a fresh circumcision wound or that I don’t know the proper dosage of gripe water for a two-day old. They overlook the fact that my swaddling is sloppy and my football hold for nursing is ineffective. They looked at me, 24 year old me, and said “you’re doing great, Mom.”
Hearing the familiar morning scene of sizzling eggs, O smearing jam on toast and all the kids at peak ridiculousness was bringing me such pure joy I paused my podcast. Had I been at the table, I surely would have shushed or reminded them not to talk with their mouths full or to stay on their bums. Tapping blush onto my cheeks three rooms away, though, I could recognize the chaos was a moment to savor.
“Love! There are only four babies at the breakfast table, let’s order two more on Instacart!”
“You got it! I’ll order a couple more to be delivered by noon!” I yelled back.
Lema noticed a prime opportunity to shout through the house and seized it instantly. “Not a couple—five more!!” Keogena started to do a math equation out loud before stopping to say, “That would be…wait, Daddy, how much do babies cost?”
O was silent for a beat. I could hardly hear them at all anymore.
“That,” he said, “you’ll have to ask your Mother.”
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