My son is almost a year old, which means that things have finally gotten a bit easier. He sleeps twelve hours at night, is entertainable in public, diaper blow-outs are few-and-far-between and reaches for me while smiling and babbling, “Ma ma ma ma ma ma.”

So.

I was a little irritated to realize all of the things he’s not “supposed” to do once he turns a year old–use a bottle, play in the jumperoo, drink formula.

Apparently, once a kid turns one, they enter early-Toddlerville and it’s time for Big Boy stuff like walking, finger food and sippy cups. Before we know it, we’ll be blowing the fuck past those milestones and it’ll be time to mark the liquor bottles and set the parental controls on the porn channel.

While I don’t object to any of these things and realize they’re just part of growing up, it’s hard to realize that we’re going to be jerked out of our complacency and back into “I have no idea what the hell to do” mode. Just when I was SO enjoying the feeling of having this Mothering shit down. (Although my son challenged that feeling yesterday when he managed to gnaw paint off our walls while I was in the bathroom. I’d like to thank my family and Jesus for the Mother-of-the-Year Award.)

I guess my parenting lesson learned for the day is: When it comes to parenting, it’s best not to get too comfortable. Treat child-rearing in same manner as snake-charming–always be alert, ready to react and never underestimate your opponent.

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