Motherhood brings with it all sorts of firsts:
The first time you mistake poop for mustard.
The first time you leave the house with someone else’s vomit down the back of your shirt.
The first time you squirt hand sanitizer at anyone within a 25′ radius of your newborn.
And as unexpected as those firsts feel at the time, looking back, I can see that they came with the territory. Being a mom means you’re expected to speak bodily fluids as a second language and I accept that. However, as my little boys have stared turning into tiny, little men, I’ve come upon a few firsts that, well, I just don’t recall signing up for.
The Doctor’s Office First
My kids have accompanied me to many a doctor’s appointment. As I’m sure many other mothers can attest, there are weeks where it can feel like we’re just one big, happy, doctor-going crazy train. However, this past week, these little mad men had the distinct pleasure of tagging along with me to the dermatologist. Never in my wildest dreams did I imagine that there would be a moment in my life when I would be laying half-nude on a doctor’s table, shot-up with lidocaine, with a nurse practitioner razoring things off my body and a 17-month-old hollering because he can’t slide my sandal back onto my right foot.
The Breast-Pumping First
When my youngest was 5-months-old I returned to work part-time, with the full intention of pumping while I was out of the house (We made it to 15-months, thank you very much!!) However, no matter how noble my intentions, there were mornings when assembling all my breast-pumping accouterment had me feeling just like Will James from The Hurt Locker. On one of these such mornings, some very important piping was left behind and I ended up milking myself in a library closet, while 25 kindergarteners sat right outside, listening to story time and the sound of my muffled whimpering.
The Potty Time First
A while back, I caught a wittle, bitty tummy bug (and by that I mean I had gut-wrenching diarrhea that literally fell out of my body the moment I stood up) and thanks to my husband, I spent the majority of the day in bed, drinking yellow Gatorade and nursing myself back to health. When I did peek my nose out to make a mad dash to the toilet, the boys, who were desperate to have a moment of interaction with me, would follow me into bathroom. Now, like many of you, I’ve gone to the bathroom with my kids in sight more times than I can count, but on this special, special day, for the first time, I looked straight into my sons’ bright, impressionable, blue eyes while I had the most explosive diarrhea ever.
The Slap-in-the-Face First
I always knew there would be moments when my boys and I wouldn’t see eye-to-eye.
Time for bed! Time to leave the park! Time to hold my hand in the busy parking lot full of speeding cars! You know, during those moments of pure evil that I have the gall to force on my offspring.
So like I said, I knew there might be moments when my kiddos may not want to fall in line. Maybe they would stomp their feet, or cry, or God forbid, throw an all-out tantrum in public and while all of these options seemed less-than-desirable, they were at least expected and somewhat manageable. More manageable than that sacred, special moment when my child would look me square in the eye and SLAP me across face.
Of course, not all unexpected firsts are bad. There’s the first time your toddler yells for you from the back seat “Mama! Mama!” and you glance in the rearview mirror to see his index finger plugged squarely into his right nostril. Or the one when your preschooler neglects to mention that he’s spilled water all over the kitchen floor, but it was only because he was trying to help out by washing all the dirty dishes.
And then there was my very favorite unexpected first of all time – my oldest son.