I don't believe in new years resolutions. The way I see it, why would I want to start the year reviewing a list of things I hate about myself? And then spend the next few months beating myself up for not turning into Martha most-perfect Stewart. So as a result, right now I'm actually feeling really happy. I'm happy that I haven't let myself down. Happy that the holiday season is over. Happy that the sun is shining. And happy that my son's trembly, snotty, coughy, spluttery, fevery bronchitis is almost forgotten.
Well to clarify, he's almost forgotten about it. Me, not so much. Every time he's sick I'm reminded how easily he could be taken away from me. How suddenly my love affair with this quirky little person could come crashing down. And as a result I become the type of mom that irritates the crap out of me. The type that's convinced the common cold signifies the onset of bubonic plague. That the grim reaper is crouching around every corner. His bony claws sticking from beneath his tattered robe and his razor sharp scythe raised to strike. And since clearly I have no hope of defeating such evil, I throw everything I possibly can at the problem, including Vicks chest rub. VICKS CHEST RUB for heaven's sakes. Like that will ward off a 104 degree fever and a chest infection! What chance do I have of defeating the grim reaper with Vicks chest rub? I mean maybe, just maybe, the creepy bastard might slip on it. Or choke on it. Or get it in his eyes (does the grim reaper even have eyes)? But let's face it, chest rub's a pretty useless weapon. And it's more for me than Micah. So I don't feel completely helpless. Even though I know deep down that it makes me certifiable dumb ass. And very un-Martha.
But being a mom is the weirdest thing - it's like all rational thought was thrown out of the window the day Micah was born. "Congratulations, it's a boy. Now kiss your experience and commonsense goodbye and prepare for neurotic, paranoid parenthood"! Prepare to irritate the hell out of yourself. "Oh, and here's a goody-bag with things you might need - diapers, wipes, formula". What help are those? Where the hell is the Vicks chest rub? How can you send a new parent home without it? How? Hospitals don't know shit about parenthood.
PS: A few people have asked me for an update on the launch of our skin care product. Suffice to say that the impending attack of the grim reaper took precedence over my skin care documentation. So it's been delayed. But we're on track for a February launch, never fear! I have my jar of Vicks rub by my side and it hasn't let me down yet.