(source) Lando is almost two years old. TWO! It makes the most nauseating of maternal figures to repeat that as oft as I do, but two years! How! Does this make me a real mom now? I'm still sort through all of that--this real mom gig. But suffice it to say, I've loved year two so much more than the first year. Infants are...terrifying, exhausting, and needy. Oh so needy. They can't walk, talk, or grab snacks out of the fridge. (They also can't raid your wallet for dollar bills. Thanks, child.) Happening live! I've come to grips with mama anxiety, that gripping worry that reminds a mother that the world is the most dangerous oyster ever. Properly installed carseats, an eagle eye, and accepting that billions of children have survived toddlerhood keeps the worry at a relatively sane level. But it's still there, and always will be. There are many poignant tomes written about a mother's love and dedication, so I won't wax poetic about
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