on GIANTS

Tiny shoes, tiny pants, tiny toys. I never thought I would categorize myself as a giant, but as I wade through the sea of ity bity t-shirts, super small socks and baby sized blankets I am forced to reconsider my assessment of myself as a "small person" over the last 26 years. My 5'3" frame towers over the variety of baby paraphernalia strewn across my living room floor and the more times I bend over to pick up a discarded pacifier flung from a manically swinging reclining bucket seat, the more I'm forced to remember, I am the mom...

It is unbelievable to me how much a life can change in one year. Last year at this time the only thing smaller than me in our house was our 6 month old puppy and her string of half chewed nyla-bones. I was drenched in a sea of over-sized, out-dated t-shirts and a giant pile of ironing thanks to Tony's new job. Life was about me and the slice of earth that Tony and I had carved out for ourselves. I was awash in new hormones and fears and little did I know just how much I would grow, in so many ways.

One year later, everything seems different. Not only do I as a person feel extraordinarily large in my own home, everything about me seems bigger.

My heart must have grown three sizes. I picture it like the ending scene of the Grinch Who Stole Christmas. If you put the x-ray over my chest it would bust the sides of the frame. Every time I look down at Roman's little face I feel the pulse of my aortic muscle growing larger and larger.

My sense of smell has heightened incredibly. I can smell a poopy diaper from across a crowed room, sense spit-up from ten feet away and tell if an outfit needs to be washed or "can make it another day" just by sniffing a whiff. I look more forward to the intoxicating cocktail of Baby Magic, Purex and pee in the mornings than I used to savor a good cup of coffee in the middle of winter.

There are a few things that seem smaller. The time in a day doesn't seem so long, especially the 45 minutes between cranky Roman and my smiley baby known as naptime. My arms don't feel as big anymore, now that Roman has grown past the 15lbs mark I realize how little muscle mass I have and how short a time he will fit in the nook of my arm. My tears are smaller now. Where before I they could obscure the vision of the future and cloud what was right before me, now they are small enough to be kissed away and forgotten before they've barely begun.

I guess I don't mind being a giant. I like the stray bright green baby sock stuck to my hand-me-down sweatshirt. I don't mind that all my clothes fit slightly askew thanks to my post baby body. I love finding a stray paci on my bed side table and having to move the tiny baby bath every night. It reminds me that I'm worth something. It reminds me some one cares for me. It reminds me, I'm the mom...