One for the Books....

Before I start this blog, let me preface with this. I know I look weird. To me, I think I look normal, but I realize that to the unwashed masses, I look weird. I'm a whole lotta woman with a whole lotta tattoos and a head full of blood red and black hair. You can see me coming a mile away (and see me GOING a mile away so I've been told) and I know that I am not your Laura Ashley "norm". With that being said, I am used to the sideways glances, the comments, the "nudge nudge look behind you at that girl", but NOTHING prepared me for the audacity and rudeness I experienced today. Nothing.

I'm standing outside of Sweet Tomatoes waiting for my pal Veezie and her son Julien to meet me for lunch. As I stand there, with Dante in his stroller, two women approach the entrance and as they walk in, one of them, very loudly and eloquently says, "My god, I would hate to be that baby and have to look at that thing that is my mother every day. I feel so sorry for that child to have a mother like that". Ok. Did she think I wouldn't hear her? Do tattoos and dyed hair imply deafness? Or did she think I was too smacked out on crack and heroin to comprehend the English language? Did she think I was from the planet Vulgartron and did not speak Earthling? Seriously. I was floored at this woman.

Now, normally when people make comments or do the nudge nudge or are starey mcstarers, I let it go. Sometimes, I'll give a sneer or an evil eye, but a majority of the time I'm just like, fuck it , they're idiots and move on. Today, something snapped in me and I couldn't let this woman get away with talking to me like that. I looked at her flatly and said, "Who the hell do you think you are talking to me like that? And where the hell do you get off feeling sorry that my son has a mother like me? Have you looked in the mirror lately you fat troll? I guarantee you I have more class and education in my pinky than you will ever have you stupid bitch". Granted, the "stupid bitch" part may have negated the whole "class and intelligent" statement but I was pissed and I was pissed black. She of course, just waddled into the restaurant with her party, grinning sheepishly, with her gaping maw.

I was so flustered that when Veezie and Julien showed up I just couldn't let it go. I just couldn't. So we went inside and I pointed them out and we made it a point to sit ourselves RIGHT beside them. Just to make the woman uncomfortable. I swear, it took every ounce of strength in me not to "accidentally" spill a bowl of hot chowder on her. Finally after a while, the woman got up (it's a salad bar place) presumably to get something else to eat. At that moment, one of the other women at her table, who had walked in with her and heard what she said and consequently what I said, came over to me and basically begged for forgiveness for her friend's rudeness saying, "I'm so sorry she said those things. She has a problem not keeping her comments to herself. She had no right to say it. You're a great mom. No one should be spoken to like that", and yadda yadda yadda. I told the woman I appreciated her apology but it should not have been she that was doing it and that if her friend had Tourette's (which she didn't; she was just a rude asshole) that maybe she should get help.

So that was my encounted of the year. I swear, sometimes I think I've seen and heard it all and then another dumb fuck comes along and clears the slate and I have to start over.

I didn't even get any soup I was so mad.

The Story So Far....

Well, it's been a little over 6 months since I "officially" became a mom. I say "officially" because I technically became a mom when I got pregnant, but to avoid any political/religious/ethical/idiotic arguments as to when a baby is a baby, let's just keep the quotes around "officially" and leave it at that. I'm still pro-choice and having a baby did not change my mind in any way shape or form as to a woman's right to choose, so don't try to convince me otherwise.With that said, I thought I would take some time to reflect back on the last 6 months and how it has been becoming this "mother" I am now. I think I can sum it all up best with two words:

Holy Shit.

Now this two word phrase can be applied in so many ways as to the trials, tribulations and joys that becoming a mom entails. Holy Shit as in "Holy shit those contractions hurt", or "Holy Shit I made a human being", or even the "Holy Shit how can something so small make something like that in their diaper?". All in all, though, these two words have touched on every level of my emotional and physical being in becoming a parent. Holy Shit the metaphor, the figurative, the literal, and the just plain expletive. Motherhood defined.

All joking aside, it has been an experience. I look at Dante everyday and cannot believe that I MADE him. My body MADE him. Sure, Randy helped with his fantastic aim and super sperm, but in the end, I built a tiny human inside my body. One day the world's population was X and the next day, it was X plus 1. And I did that. It's absolutely mind boggling. Certain people have said to me, "How can you not believe in god? Don't you see god when you look into your child's eyes?". To which I frankly reply, "I see evolution and Darwinism and science and biology when I look into his eyes". I see the universe and, as Carl Sagan used to call us, "star stuff". I see Randy, I see myself, I see the wonder of nature. It's incredible to watch as Dante develops. I mean, where is that little larva I brought home from the hospital that was only concerned with sleeping, shitting and eating? He was this little bug; so small and so helpless. Now, at almost 7 months, Dante is crawling at Mach 10; eating like he's Andre the Giant; grabbing, touching, and putting everything he can find into his mouth; and, the best part, he's developing a personality. He's becoming human. He laughs at my funny dancing, he cries when I leave a room, he throws a fit when I take the remote control out of his mouth, and he nestles into my chest when he's tired. And I fucking MADE that. (once again, props go out to Randy for the catalyst).

With all of Dante's developments it's hard not to see the changes in myself as well. I used to be concerned about getting to the hottest club, or dancing all night, or the latest CD, or staying out until the wee hours of the morning, or the next party, or which scene I was going to try to make, or which photographer had to take my picture, or what magazine was going to write an article about me. All those concerns I had about myself are gone now. My nights are spent reading Pat the Bunny or Goodnight Moon. They're spent doing Infant Massage on a tired baby. They're spent falling asleep at 10 pm only to be woken up at 1 am because someone needs a rocking or two. I've traded in my black patent leather stilettos, for rubber soled Skechers. I've hung up the vinyl dresses and corsets and traded them in for coulottes and t-shirts. I've stopped getting party passes and drink tickets to the hottest nightclubs and instead am clipping coupons for Huggies and Pampers from the Sunday Paper.

And you know what? I wouldn't trade it for the world.

I used to think I knew it all. Living in New York, running a nightclub, taking full advantage of the City that Never Sleeps. Had you spoken to me 4 years ago, I would have laughed at the idea of children. "I hate kids. I'm never having kids", I would have told you. A divorce and the right man coming along told me otherwise. I never knew how much I wanted children until I met Randy. My mother used to always say to me, when I was married to the first one, "You don't want children because you haven't met the right man yet". How right she was. These days I know I don't know it all. But I do know that in just 6 months, I have realized how great it is to be a mom. Now, I'm sure that when Dante hits his terrible two's or is fifteen and wants to date or is 32 and wants to marry some girl (who will not be good enough for him I am sure), I will say it's not so great being mom, but for now....It's pretty fucking awesome.