kamoshidasaori

Even though Heather Armstrong can border on being too negative and crass (in my opinion) for a laugh, I felt like this was the most accurate representation of life with a newborn that I'd ever read or seen. I loved the fact that she could so directly portray both the horrifyingly terrible things about having a baby and those moments that almost make your heart explode from the cuteness. I enjoyed the "recovering Mormon" slant and all the Utah references. In the acknowledgements at the end of the book, she thanks her daughter for allowing her to share this story so that other women might not feel so alone, and it was nice to realize that all moms, whether you admit yourself to the psychiatric ward or not, have wanted to at some point or another. "When you're childless and young and hopeful, you have this idea of what your children are going to be like, and you make mental notes when you see other kids in public. You say to yourself, "My kid will be cute like that," or "My kid won't ever throw a tantrum in public like that little demon." I had always envisioned a sweet little princess who looked just like me sitting quietly in a high chair, her pressed velvet petticoat creased perfectly as she sat and waited to be handed things in a timely manner. And then you grow up and have kids and realize that YOU HAVE NO SAY, and the only clean thing she can wear is that oversized red shirt that she will smear pears on before you leave the house, and that demon you once witnessed looks more and more human in hindsight." p.230

2023-01-26 04:35