Mi Madre

This is a tribute to my mom: it’s her birthday today, and oddly enough it’s also international woman’s day.

From the moment I was born, my mom and I developed a great bond. When the nurse handed me over to her after delivery, she told me that she was completely grossed out by me. I was covered with mucus and my mouth was dripping with saliva/amniotic fluid. My hands were tucked into my body for warmth but my legs kept flailing all over the place. I could only open one eye because the other one was covered with glop. She just couldn’t believe she gave birth to a creature like me. And I’m not making this up, but she told me, “I asked the nurse if they had given me the wrong baby, this thing is so ugly, it couldn’t be my son.” Maybe she changed her mind after the nurses cleaned me up; or perhaps she just couldn’t find anyone else to take me home (just kidding).

They did take me home and soon I morphed into an eating+pooping machine. One time my mom was feeding me and all of the sudden I turned beat red. She thought I was choking and started to freak out and tried to give me a baby heimlich maneuver. However, it just turned out I was pooping my pants.

Then I went into my crying phase. Every night as my mom was about to sit down and enjoy her favorite detective show, I would wake up and start bawling. And nothing seemed to shut me up (benadryl wasn’t created yet) until one night she gave up and just plopped me on the couch and let me watch tv with her. Only then did I stop crying, and even though I was only two months old, I seemed to understand it (it’s because of my giant brain). So I ended up watching late night detective shows with her for months. Come to think of it, I think I watched more tv with her when I was a few months old than I do now. But this weekend I am definitely looking forward to watching some shows with her and having meals together –except this time I won’t poop my pants… or maybe I will (depends on her cooking, jk again).

Feliz cumpleanos mom!