Being a mother truly changes a woman. For one, I feel like a real woman. Cliche, I know, but there’s nothing like sleep deprivation and the cry of an 18-day-old to make you feel every bit of your XX chromosomes. My universe revolves around this little girl who’s eight pounds of hungry, bright, and oh so alive. True, she sleeps most of the day and keeps club kid hours(Oh, Endup, you were supposed to have been my training ground for this vampire-like existence and yet I feel so late-thirties about these 3am parties in the nursery as I nod off in the rocking chair…maybe some house music would help)but for every second she is up and we are interacting, I feel like the solar system shift in her direction.

This leads to my second observation which is the shift in priorities. Example: I completely forgot the presidential debate was Friday evening. I have more pressing issues: diaper rash, gas meds, the dilemma of having diaper service now that I’m seeing the pros of disposable diapers and their moisture-wicking properties. Y’all can elect the president. I have a newborn. Everything else comes second.

For all the 4am crying jags and 6am bedtimes, I have never been more in love or more happy. True, a shower has become the ultimate me time. True, I have to watch out that my coveted meals(sushi again, at last!) won’t give my baby gas. True, I missed the Frida Kahlo exhibit, the opening Cal game, and who knows what other social event. But I’m a mommy and that makes it worthwhile.