I don't know what happened in the garment industry, but it seems it has completely dispensed with its 2,000-year history of manufacturing clothing for the purpose of, well, clothing. Although we now have more options than ever with myriad styles, cuts and washes, sadly, none of them fit. It seems a cruel paradox.
All those well-meaning mothers with all their time-tested advice neglected to let me in on the pain that is mothering. How many mothers told me when I was pregnant that one day I'll turn around and a half-formed man will be living in my house and my precious baby will be missing? How many mothers told me that the day will come when I can't coax him into bunny ears for a picture even if I promised him unlimited video game time? How many mothers told me how much my heart will hurt when I realize my baby simply isn't a baby anymore?
In many predictable ways having a second child has changed my mothering -- for example, increasing my forgetfulness while simultaneously decreasing my reservoir of patience. My second child has just reached his first birthday and with that celebratory occasion came a mountain of realizations for me about the differences between baby number one and baby number two.
Ever since our two sons began sharing a room, their bedtime routine has been the same. Baths, PJs, teeth, stories, cuddles. And every night as I leave their room, Eli always says, "Remember to come up, cuddle, and bring water!" I head down the stairs with a quick, "Okay!" knowing full well that the likelihood of following through on that promise is next to nothing.