Aside from the embarassing experiences chronicled here, mommyhood has been a fab experience. I just can't get enough of BabyBear and all the fun that this city offers a new mom. In light of my passion for all things baby, I'm starting to think of myself as the godfather of the North Toronto stroller mafia. (Or godmother...whatever.)
As I explore this new world, I sense a tension between my old and emerging selves. The old me read the Wall Street Journal. The new mom in me surfs the web for crockpot recipes. Heck, this Wharton-educated capitalist pig even voted for a Green Party candidate in the federal election, all because my child deserves a healthy planet. (Well, that and because I think Stephen Harper is intolerant...but that's another blog post.)
You think I'm exaggerating? Oh no, this is real. I'm freezing homemade baby food in ice cube trays. I'm vacuuming the house with BabyBear strapped into the Baby Bjorn. I'm crafting weekly meal plans - and not one of the nights calls for Amaya take-out.
One thing assures Tom that my domestic diva kick will not last: I'm not very good at it. Tonight's beef stroganoff lacked mushrooms. I kept BabyBear in her pajamas all day today. And when my mother stayed with us last week, she downgraded the experience from "like camping" to "like visiting a third world country". (I do keep the house clean, but even I will admit that one needs a wrench to turn on our dryer.)
Ultimately, I'm grateful for this opportunity, but glad that professional pursuits will pull me back next year. In the meantime, however, I'm still fascinated by midday happenings in the 'hood and every new new thing that BabyBear throws at me.
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