During class at the kiddie gym…
Instructor (about Nora): “You know, you’re really good with her. Like, REALLY good.”
Me: “Oh my gosh thank you so much! I appreciate you saying that.”
Instructor: “Yeah and trust me I’ve seen a LOT of nannies. I hope they’re paying you well.”
At the kiddie gym, Nora is playing at the chalk board with another boy.
Nora (picks up yellow piece of chalk, shows it to boy): “It’s yellow!”
Boy’s Mom: “Oh my god, she knows her colors?! That’s amazing!”
Me: “Yeah I know it’s crazy.”
Boy’s Mom: “She’s a genius!”
Me: “Haha I like to think so!”
Nora: (picks up pink chalk): “It’s yellow!”
Nora: (picks up green chalk) “It’s yellow!”
Nora: (picks up blue chalk) “It’s yellow!”
Me: “Haha ok maybe she doesn’t know ALL the colors….”
Nora: (picks up bug off the floor) “It’s yellow!”
Me: “No no Nora that’s a bu—”
Nora: (eats bug)
Me: “Nora, no!”
Nora (mouth full of bug): “It’s yellow!”
Boy’s Mom: <Picks up kid. Leaves.>
Nanny: “Nora has been doing something very dangerous.”
Me: “Oh no! What!?”
Nanny: “She puts things over her head. Everything. Towels, clothes, pillows.”
Me: “Oh really?”
Nanny: “Yes. She thinks it’s a game of peekaboo. But it’s very dangerous. I told her no, no, no.”
Me: “Ok good.”
Nanny: “It’s very important you stop this behavior when you see it.”
Me: “Oh, of course, I always do.”
One day earlier:
I’m in the elevator with Nora and a man gets in with his dog…
Nora: “It’s a doggie!”
Me: “Yes it is! What does the doggie say?”
Nora: “Woof woof!”
Man: “Wow, that’s pretty good!”
Me: “Yes, well. She’s Harvard-bound.”
Man: 
Me: “I’m totally kidding.”
Man (laughing): “Oh thank god! You never know around here.”
Me (laughing): “I know. But don’t worry, I’m not one of those crazy ‘My 1-year-old-is-going-to-Harvard moms!”
Man: “Phew!”
She’s going to Penn.
(Part of the Ebola Mom series)
Nora, every second I’m alone with her:
Nora, every time I just want silence:
Nora, the second someone asks me if she’s talking yet and I say “Yes! She babbles all day and says a bunch of real words! Nora, show them how much you talk!”:
“Come on Nora, you talk to Mom all day at home! You never stop! Show them how you say “hi!” or “bye!” or “cheese!””
“Ok Nora, please say something, because now you’re just making Mom look like an asshole.”
I met another new mom in the building.
Her: “Where’s Nora’s favorite food from?”
Me: “What do you mean?”
Her: “Like we order from Little Spoon, fresh delivery of organic foods. Or sometimes [my kid] likes the finger foods from Yumi, they’re also organic and they do all these different boxes of mixed foods, they’re great.”
Me: “Oh…”
Her: “So where does Nora like food from?”
The floor.
She likes to eat food that she finds on the floor.
A man in the elevator smiles at Nora…
Man: “A boy, right?”
Me: “Sure, it’s possible.”
Man: 
Me: “No gender identity has been expressed yet….”
Man: 
Me: “She has a vagina, though.”
Man: 
Me: “Have a nice day!” (exit elevator. High five Nora.)
Speaking with a new mom I met in our building, who has a son around Nora’s age, I mention that as much as I’m completely in love with my daughter, I’ve definitely had some bumps along the way in adjusting to motherhood.
Her: “Ugh, I’m so sorry you’ve had to deal with postpartum depression.”
Me: “Oh, you’re very sweet and I appreciate that so much, but I actually, very fortunately, have NOT had to deal with postpartum depression.”
Her: “Oh, my bad! I just thought from what you were saying…it sounded like a postpartum depression type thing.”
Me: “Oh, no. I actually was very nervous I’d have postpartum depression because I’m definitely at risk. But surprisingly I didn’t. What I’m talking about is just like normal parenthood transition stuff, you know?”
Her: 
Me: “Maybe you DON’T know…”
Her: “I don’t know, I guess I just haven’t found the transition difficult at all. It’s really only brought me joy.”
Me: “Wow, that’s awesome. You’ve really never been totally overwhelmed? Or anxious about the huge responsibility of raising a human? Or even just like ‘AHHHH I miss my old life!?'”
Her: “Honestly, no. I love every second of it. Is that weird?”
Me: “I mean no, it’s amazing! Good for you. ENJOY IT!”
You lying cunt.
Me (to myself, in the mirror): “Ok, this [insert any unsightly skin imperfection– zit, wrinkle, mole, scar] is really bothering me, but I’m sure it’s one of those things that only I notice, and it’s totally imperceptible to everyone else.” (Vow not to focus on it. Convince self it’s not even there.)
10 minutes later, wake Nora up.
Nora: <Opens eyes. Immediately zooms in on skin imperfection with sniper-like focus. Lunges at it with two hands. Slaps it. Twists it between her little devil fingers. Tries to yank it off. Bites at it. Cackles maniacally.>
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