Cravings

When I started this blog, I gave it the name "nomotherearth" because, up to that point, I had spent my time as a new mother feeling very much on the outside. I would look at the other new mothers in my neighbourhood (and there are ALOT of new mothers in my 'hood) and feel like they knew something I didn't. They all seemed to have their act together, and here I was stumbling along like an infant learning to walk. I took a lot of falls. Truth be told, I'm still stumbling. I was especially fascinated by the mothers for whom this mothering thing seemed to come naturally. It was as if the "Mother Earth" juice just oozed out of their every pore. They seemed to know the right thing to do in every situation, and everything was just so easy for them. I, on the other hand, found nothing easy.

Since then, thanks to the support of a lovely bloggy community and some wonderful IRL friends, I have been able to come to terms with my shortcomings. Not absolutely, of course. I'm still somewhat embarrassed by how much I don't know. But I feel much less alone. I've also felt that over 2.5 years with the Boy has improved my maternal instincts so drastically that most days I can pass for someonw who knows what they're doing.

So I was taken aback when Mr Earth made a comment the other day that we don't, as he has been noticing other couples do, spend a lot of time Touching the Belly. My first (unthinking) response was "Yeah, I'm just not all that into it." Mr Earth snorted at my non-maternal comment. What I meant, of course, was that I was just not all that into Touching the Belly. I am VERY into having a baby. You just won't see me fondling my distended abs and smiling that secret smile. I should mention that although Baby Earth has been kicking up a storm, (s)he will stop moving the moment someone puts a hand on the Belly. I have only felt the kicks from the inside.

I think I may have regressed. When I was pregnant with the Boy, I really did try to do everything "right". Poor Baby Earth seems to be on his/her own. Not only have I eaten soft cheeses and deli meats from questionable submarine joints, but I've gone weeks without vegetables crossing my lips (unless tomato sauce counts as a veggie..?). I'm pretty sure that I had some undercooked shellfish at one point. Kegel? What's a Kegel?? On top of everything, I have been CRAVING red wine. Absolutely must have red wine.

I haven't indulged yet. I know that most reports say that a glass here or there is no big deal, but, um...let's just say that I'm not the poster-child for moderation. Generally, when I find something I like to eat - especially during pregnancy - I will eat just gobs of it until I'm so sick of it I can't stand to even have it in the house anymore. So I take sips of Mr Earth's wine here and there.

Measly, sad, depressing sips.

I want to take a nice bottle from our growing wine rack that I eye every morning while I make breakfast for the Boy. I want to hold a glass full of velvety warm goodness. I want to inhale the edgy fruit smell. I want to feel that pleasant soft hum in my shoulders as I finally relax after a taxing day. As irreverant as it may seem, having a good glass of wine at the end of the day is a little bit of a religious experience for me. And with each passing day of this pregnancy, I want it more and more.

This is so wrong. I can't even get cravings right. No pickles and ice cream for me. God forbid I should crave something that contains anything that my body actually needs like calcium or iron. No. I crave alcohol. I feel like the Don Music of motherhood. Anyone care to join me for a glass?? Cause I'll never get it right. Never, never, never!