Last night I thought I was having contractions while making an enchilada casserole to freeze for ‘after-baby.’ The thought of going into labor (with my husband still at work) spooked me a little bit, but I got MORE worked up about the thought of potentially going to the hospital without having time to clean up the mess of red sauce and cheese smeared all over my white kitchen! Would I have time to rinse the dirty pans in the sink? Or would I just leave them on the stove to crust and mold and dash out the door? I pictured my husband and me returning home days later (with our newborn baby), forced to throw away my pristine, Calphalon cookware collection because of the filthy condition I’d left them in. I got so upset I ridiculously started crying. (Veteran moms all over the world are laughing right now.)
Turns out, the contractions were those ‘mini-practice ones’ that they tell you about. They came and went, I Windex-ed my countertop and put the casserole in the freezer.
I’m filing this over-dramatized experience as my very first lesson in motherhood:
I’M NO LONGER IN CONTROL, AND I MUST GET OVER IT.
I pictured my Baby snickering at me. Point taken, little one. Here’s to more messes in the future. 🙂
