Rebekah Speaks

For all the expectant mothers out there. A few simple words from someone  who has been there, done that--for whatever it is worth. The drive home from the hospital is idyllic. That sweet child is snuggled down into her spic-and-span car seat, nary a crumb yet to be crushed into the fabric or a juice box spilled. She purses her lips, eyes shut, a little coo escaping when she draws in a contented big breath. It is just how you imagined motherhood to be. The world is aglow with magical unicorns and butterflies. You figure you are off to a great start. How hard can this mothering thing be? It’s not like you haven’t read all the books and listened to the myriad of “how to’s” from other moms. In fact, you should probably be receiving your official “Parenting Specialist” certificate in the mail any day now. After all, you are 100% destined to be an expert mother with all the research you have put into it. It’s in the bag. Easy-peasy. No worries.  And then. . . then you enter the house, th

Imagine. Full of energy, the little tyke squealed with a curious combination of delight and suspense when his mother cornered him and scooped him up into her open arms. He had been roaming the house much like a free-range chicken wanders the landscape in search of delectable morsels of food. But now she needed his full attention. Mother picked up her precious thirty-pounds of wiggly-giggly protoplasm and carried him to the sofa. Seated, she stood the toddler in front of her. Not wanting to stand still for even a nano-second, his internal engine continued to roar, not even slowing to a soft purr when Mother tenderly grasped both his scrawny arms to still the lion within. “I need you to listen to me. Please stop squirming.” Though his mother’s grip prevented him from running, his tiny feet continued to dance, his eyes darting wildly around the room. “Look at me,” she begged, frustration mounting. When her pleas went unheeded, her hands moved north from his arms to his squishy little