Cleaner World

So, the thing is... it's apparently a somewhat cleaner world now that I have two children.

I went to the grocery store today, which is pretty much where we hang out. It's a very cool grocery store named Central Market (only in Texas, unfortunately). It's a good place to take the girls because you weigh your own produce and bulk foods and after you weigh the item, you can give your kids something and not feel like you're stealing. The staff is unbelievably friendly and helpful and if, say, your toddler has a complete and utter breakdown in the middle of aisle seven, most of the other shoppers are moms with kids and tend more to sympathy rather than judgment.

So, we go often to Central Market and it has something to do with the fact that Ana wants to ride in the cart in front and Jane rides in her carrier seat in the basket part of the cart and that leaves exactly enough room to buy some fresh fish, two bell peppers and a quart of milk. Oh, and twenty-five cents worth of chocolate covered raisins.

Anyway, I loaded up my kids and after Ana and I finished our usual discussion about walking versus riding, I noticed that the woman standing beside me was using one of those antibacterial wipes on her shopping cart, while holding her adorable (I would guess) nine month old on her hip. The child was dressed in Hanna Andersen (very pricey mail-order catalog baby togs) matching hat and pants and the mom had one of those safety seats that tie onto the cart for him to sit on. And there she was, sanitizing the cart for his protection, and totally absorbed in her baby and the task at hand.

I couldn't help it; I had to laugh! Because I could tell so much about her -- I once WAS her! This was her first and only child to date. I know he was because you only get that single-focused time to parent with your first child. Take Ana-- I used to wipe down the shopping carts with her, too. In fact, my husband used to get hysterical because every time someone came by and wanted to admire our baby, he says I got this stony look on my face that clearly said "I suspect you of being some weird child snatcher and if you touch my child, make no mistake about it, I will kill you." Now, with Smiley Jane, if anyone wants to admire her, they not only get her entire birth story --but I will actually take the pacifier from her mouth so they can see her dimple! (Don’t touch her, though. I’m not THAT evolved.)

Oh, and that pacifier is a further sign of my decline --do you think I would have EVER given Ana a pacifier?? I was her pacifier!! And her full time nurse and teacher and biographer --my gosh, the documentation of Ana’s first year is something wondrous to see! I think we have about four hours of video footage of Ana sitting in her Baby Bungee. I mean, just SITTING in it. Before she learned to bounce. We have photographs of her first bites of solid food, her first grab for her toes, her first bath. Poor Jane! My mom was visiting when then five-month-old Jane had just started solid food and we'd made quite the spectacular mess. "Darn," I said. "I guess I'll have to give her a bath."

"You know," said my mom. "I've never seen Jane HAVE a bath."

"Really?" I said, puzzled. "Well, gosh, she's had at LEAST four of them..."

So, I'm giggling a little at how earnest I was when I had just one child. I'm not saying that every mom who wipes down a grocery cart is as hyper vigilant as I was. I mean, I took it to true extremes. I had the healthiest first baby ever but if she so much as SNIFFLED, I (honest to God) SLEPT ON THE FLOOR BY HER BED! And this was when we lived in an 1100 square foot house --when my own bed was only about ten feet from her anyway. Jane had an ear infection when she was four months old and I dosed her with the antibiotic and put her in her crib upstairs and came down to my own dinner. Never even thought about it. With Ana, I was so concerned about her comfort, I took all the tags out of her clothing so they wouldn't chafe her skin. Which means, of course, that I have no idea what size they are now that Jane wears them --when she’s not just clad in a diaper and hanging out. Gosh, with Ana, even when she was sleeping, I wouldn't turn the television on --or if I did, I watched it with the mute on. (Closed captioning is surprisingly entertaining.) Jane, on the other hand, might develop into quite the music enthusiast since every evening, while she has her last bottle, I indulge in about thirty minutes of the Ken Burns’ Jazz series, which I received as a birthday gift from my spouse (on DVD, very cool).

I know lots of first time mothers who aren't near as neurotic as I was. My friend Marcia seems to have been born with an unflappable confidence in her role as a new mom. Whereas I don't think I ever even left home during the first six months of Ana’s life, Marcia was out and about as soon as she'd remotely healed from her c-section. She seems so relaxed, somehow. Maybe it's because she's from a large and very supportive family and she's practically done this before, I don't know. Maybe she's just a natural at it. I don't think I was even very MATERNAL before I had my children. So I was always re-creating the wheel somehow and so incredibly motivated to do everything perfectly that I didn't realize how completely stressed I was. I have a pretty high energy level --think of all that directed at one tiny baby. Very scary.

So, I don't know. I hope this change in my hyper-parenting is not a relaxing of the standards so much as a recognition of the need to choose one's battles. Maybe it's a recognition that babies aren't quite as fragile as I once thought. And maybe it's about having FUN during this fleeting time. Like all of my lessons about parenting that I've learned the hard way, it's about balance. From what I understand, it IS possible to keep your children healthy and safe without completely losing your mind. (Hope I didn't learn this too late!)

And you know, not ALL attempts to control our kids’ environments are signs of obsessive-compulsive Mommyness. Really. I promise. Now that Jane is sitting up and will, presumably, be both sitting in the front basket of the grocery cart and mouthing any part of it she can reach, I will probably break out the antibacterial wipes once again.

But seriously. Don’t touch her without asking.

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Barbara Cooper is the mother of Ana (3) and Jane (six months). She lives in Austin, Texas and is a pacifist by nature and philosophy --unless you touch her children.

**End note: Last week's column on weaning Jane brought in my biggest response yet from a column and it was universally positive, both in its support of my decision and in validating the mixed feelings I had as I nursed my last child. Thank you so much --I needed the support. It WAS a little strange to have so many friends and strangers beginning their e-mails with "Hi, Barb, how are your breasts?" but there ya go. (And they're...er...WE'RE fine now. Thanks.)