I found an interesting New York TImes article awhile ago (I'm emailing myself my blog entry from work). It's about Brooklyn community in New York called Park Slope that is apparently a mommy haven. http://www.nytimes.com/2007/07/08/realestate/08cov.html?pagewanted=1

For the past couple days I've actually been thinking that I don't know how well I'd deal in a community like that. I definitely don't feel like super mommy and sometimes I'm not even sure I know what I'm doing. Oh I get the hang of feed, bathe, clothe, protect, but I keep wondering how I'll fare when it gets time to teach her things. Then I start freaking out about when is the time to start teaching her the names of objects, colors, numbers, shapes, etc. In fact, I just realized on Saturday that every time I go to my hairdresser I end up talking about how I scared I am that I'm going to mess up and not do anywhere near as good a job with Moo as I feel that my Mom did raising me.

That's a very sobering and numbing thought. I got short of breath the other night just thinking about it. I see people with their pre-teen and teenage daughters and wonder what Moo will be like then. I wonder if we'll have imparted good morales to her, because let's face it by the time she's hit 16 who she'll be will largely be in place already.

The other part that I've been thinking of is that I'm also not comfortable around large groups of Moms and babies. I went to a baby shower two weeks ago and I felt so out of place. I was the only the third black person there, but it's too easy to play the race card. I just don't think I'm the same kind of mommy that those there were. I don't call Moo's room a nursery, neither is it painted, nor is there any kind of color-coding going on in there. Her stroller and car seat never matched, and neither had even a passing acquaintance with pink. We're just different.

And that isn't to say that she doesn't get alot of love and attention. On the contrary, just this past Saturday she spent most of the morning hanging out with her Daddy in the garage helping him work on his car from her perch above a box. And she had a whole afternoon shopping incursion yesterday during which I realized that she loves people watching. And then she had the time of her life playing in the living room, crawling away from me and laughing so hard that she curled up like a little ball.

I think it's the baby-food-to-real-food transition stage that's unnerving me. I'm so scared I'm doing it toally wrong and she's going to end up with some random eating disorder. Yesterday I couldn't help but sit on the bed and just allow myself to "not be strong" and miss my Mom. I sure wish she was around to help and play grandma.