With all the magic a new baby brings with her into a family, it’s easy to forget that we too, the Mommas, have more than banana mush and dried peas up our sleeves. We have our own brand of sparkly magic! But between what well-meaning veteran moms, our own mothers, Oprah, our inner Simon Cowell, and those who have no clue but want to be heard have to say, we can’t feel a smidgen of pride without a wave of shame or embarrassment rolling over it. So this morning I decided to send all the voices out for coffee and doughnuts while I reveled for a moment in this Momma Magic…
For a young child with no sense of object permanence, I can make bottles appear or vanish in the blink of an eye. The smallest sleight of hand and a burp cloth materializes out of thin air, just in time to catch that unexpected spit up. I’m also consistently good at calling mirror baby and momma out of hiding!
I bring light into the morning and pull darkness from the sky at night. With the help of our trusty stroller, I move the trees and tall buildings above us. There’s an ocean between my lips, gentle breeze and sounds like water.
I am a Top Chef with my pureed sweet potatoes and pears, a master masseuse at the swankiest spa in town, and a riveting journalist who reports the latest news on Runnaway Bunnies, Global Babies, and Hippos Going Berzerk.
I am an Olympic balance beam for those first round stands and steps. I am a powerful windmill with my twisting morning stretches. And I am a private jet, though trips with Dad’s airline are always a little more exciting…
I hear that one day my magic will fade, that I won’t be able to do anything right, nevermind “spectacular.” My cosmic powers will transfer to Dad, Grandma and Grandpa, Uncle Todd, the babysitter, the current Disney heartthrob.
I’ll become more psychic than sorcercer, better counselor than cure-all, and I’ll fight the urge to return to superhero status and save her world. I’ll be OK- um, I’ll pretend I’m OK with this and will try to remember that she is magic too.