Today marks the one year anniversary of the last movie I saw in a theatre. Michael Clayton. Greg and I went to take our minds off the imcomprehensible idea that we would be parents the following morning. I remember shifting uncomfortably in the seat, unable to find a position to ease my backache. As I half watched George Clooney, I wondered what kind of mother I would be.
One year later I can tell you I'm the kind of mother who has every intention of baking her kid's birthday cake from scratch (it will be her first dessert), but who finds that her baking powder expired SIX years ago mid-way through the process. Sigh. I had thought that mothers automatically turned into organized women with freshly stocked pantries. Then again, one year ago, I was also convinced that Baby C would be a boy.