When people find out you're pregnant, advice flows freely from their mouths. Every new mother hears about diapers and baths, pacifiers and baby bottles. We get conflicting information about nursing versus formula, family beds versus cribs, and store bought baby food versus homemade, pureed sludge. It's enough to drive us all a little loony, but we are thankful for the advice of seasoned mothers. At least I was.
Earlier this month, I officially became the mother of a teenager. As I readied the house for the party, cooked food like I was making Thanksgiving dinner solo, and swore over the homemade butter cream frosting melting off his cake, I had very little time to reflect on the enormity of the day.