Mike and I just got finished making these cookies to bring to the New Year’s bash we’re attending later this evening.  One of the major downsides of being pregnant is that it takes a lot of the fun out of baking, namely because eating raw cookie dough is now on the List of Forbidden Activities.  I think I miss it even more than I miss alcohol, or good cheese, taking a hot bath, or going an hour without feeling some sort of stabbing pain in my ribs, so I’m sure you can understand my impatience to sample one of the cookies right from the oven.  I managed to let them cool for a whole FIVE MINUTES and then wandered into the kitchen as Mike was moving the first batch onto a cooling rack. 

Me:  Are the cookies ready yet?

Mike:  Probably not.

Me:  But I want to eat one.

Mike:  They’re still really hot.

Me:  You’re not the boss of me, or the cookies.  I’m going to eat one anyway.

Mike:  You do what you gotta do, but I’m telling you, they’re really hot.


Mike:  …

Me:  I’m not mature enough to have a baby, am I?

I’ve had moments like this throughout this pregnancy, where I realize I’m woefully unprepared to be a mother, and while I know a large part of parenting involves Learning As You Go, this is not a lifestyle I’m used to nor a feeling I particularly enjoy.  These brief moments of panic can come out of nowhere, as I try to figure out when I’m going to go back to work after the baby comes and how I’m going to manage it, or as I stare at the baby section of the Old Navy website and realize that I have no idea what babies WEAR aside from the fact that it’s usually soft and adorable, or as I realize that one of us is going to have to take this kid to the DENTIST, the honest-to-goodness DENTIST, and it’s probably going to be me, and I’m going to have to figure out a way to try not to scar her for life in the process.

These all seem like Actual Parenting Issues With Actual Consequences, so I certainly didn’t expect to be struck with yet another moment of new mom insecurity in the kitchen this afternoon as I realized that one day I’m going to be dealing with cookie dough replete with raw eggs and the subsequent freshly baked cookies that really could stand to cool for another 10 minutes and I’M going to have to be the one that says, “No, you really shouldn’t be eating that, it might have SALMONELLA!” or “No, the cookies really are too hot.  You’re just going to have to wait!”

I have to be the GROWNUP here?  In some ways, this seems way harder than the dentist thing.