Being Shelby Anderson's Mother

Being Shelby Anderson's mother means knowing that when she tugs at her ear, she's getting tired, and a nap is in our near future.

Being Shelby Anderson's mother means that whenever I sit down to eat and am within her line of vision, a scream will follow. Because of course, Shelby needs to eat if Mom is eating.

Being Shelby Anderson's mother means knowing that Aden & Anais swaddling blankets are her favorite blankets. Nothing beats the smile and look she gives me when that blanket falls like a soft cloud over her in her crib.

Being Shelby Anderson's mother means that if there's any type of charging cord around, it will end up in her mouth. "No's" and "don't touch" are worthless. They must be unplugged and removed from sight.

Being Shelby's mother means that Happy Baby puffs and yogurt drops must be kept in large quantities when out and about at all times. Because of course, one must scream like a pterodactyl in public places if food is not in ones mouth.

Being Shelby Anderson's mother means that inanimate objects become "friends" when with Dad. Her friend, "Mr. Blue screen" (aka, the thermostat) gets it's own shout out on the way into the house every day. And don't dare walk past "him" without stopping so Shelby can say hello.

Being Shelby Andersons mother means that in the bath, crab and frog are the favorite bath toys of choice. I on the other hand tend to favor octopus, but my preference has no significance during bath time.

Being Shelby Anderson's mother means that if we put off naptime until she's deliriously tired, we can squeeze a 3 hour nap out of her. Which is happened today.

Being Shelby Anderson's mother includes coming to terms with the fact that I have less hair now, and most likely due to the fact that her teeny hands are constantly pulling it out.

But lastly, being Shelby Anderson's mother has been one of the greatest blessing of my life! I'm grateful for all that it brings and wouldn't change a thing.

And if anyone is a reader of Nat the Fat Rat (like me) then you'll notice that my post was kindly adapted from hers. Because imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, isn't it?