A Few More Thoughts On Motherhood

In an online post I was reading recently, a mom of two was talking about how much she loved the fontanelle on her baby. She said as her baby reached a year old, she kept running her hands over the open spot in her baby's skull to remind her of his infant-ness. While she was talking about it, she mentioned something that definitely struck home with me. Paraphrased, she said, All moms experience an irrational fear that a sharp pencil might fly across the room and strike them, pointy-end first, in this most sensitive area. Mostly, I am afraid that she will bang it against a sharp corner on the entertainment center, but anyone walking around with anything stick-like (remote controls, nasal decongestants) have all startled me into a graphic mental picture of them tripping on their own feet or a spot of lint on the floor and stabbing her in the head with the object - right in the fontanelle. Then I tell myself that I'm being silly and go back to trying to dig boogers out of her nose, or picking at her cradle cap. (I know you're not supposed to - I can't help it.)

I also worry, sometimes, that she will grow up to look like Brain. You know, from Pinky and the Brain? Viewed from behind, waving her giant melon-head around like a sunflower on a spindly stalk in the wind, the bulge of her brain under her skull is quite apparent.

We can try and take over the world every day as long as her eyebrows don't hang that low over her eyes.


She is breastfed, and it doesn't matter how many times I look it up on KellyMom, I still have to reassure myself that a glass of wine now doesn't mean a drunk baby later. My brain tells me that whatever I have comes out directly, like she's getting Nacho Cheese flavored breastmilk, or Chardonnay for dinner. Maybe it's the worry of her looking like this: