I wondered what I was doing wrong that was causing me to miss out on this wonderful magical child rearing planet of bliss and perfection. I looked down at my stomach that now looked like I was trying on skin 2 sizes too big and is the consistency of gak and realized that I did not find nursing bras glamorous, and hardly saw my weekly trip to the grocery store as exotic. Then I realized that Liv was not like the sack of flour we had to carry around in high school teen living class to try and help us keep the law of chastity and was over after 24 hours, nor was I simply babysitting for an extended weekend. This was my new world. Spit up. Diapers. Cribs. Worrying if she was in the right percentile. Teradactyl screeching in public places. No sleeping in. Ever. Again. (Let that one soak in for a minute). Mustard Sauce explosions from her bum at the most inopportune times, everywhere. My own gak belly pooch that doesn't tone no matter how many times I do ab ripper X, car seats, bibs, never going anywhere without a carry on suitcase with Mary Poppin pockets filled with all the accessories, unending laundry with body fluid soaked midget clothes. Perfecting the mom hip bounce that everyone stands in the back of the church and does to calm their own shrieking blobs that can't hold their heads up. Baby food. Expensive diapers that don't really contain the problem. For at least the next 20 years. I thought that maybe I had signed up for the wrong destiny.
That was then. I have had a complete change of motherhood heart. It's like Saul to Paul mothering style. Just call me Kelsey because I am a new woman.