Wildflower (2015) by Drew Barrymore

Author:Drew Barrymore [Barrymore, Drew]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Humor, Form, Entertainment & Performing Arts, Personal Memoirs, Biography & Autobiography, Essays
ISBN: 9781101983805
Google: DnveBgAAQBAJ
Publisher: Penguin
Published: 2015-10-27T04:00:00+00:00

First kiss

DEAR OLIVE

You are very smart. I know that according to the book NurtureShock I am not supposed to tell you that you are smart, but you are very sharp. Let’s call it that. I have read many books and studied many things because I always have wanted to attack parenting in a very smart way myself. I’m an overachiever in most areas of my life. I take on a lot and I expect perfection in myself. I am hard on myself. And I’m sure some of that comes from fear. And I admit I was scared when you came into the world because I just wanted to make sure everything was perfect for you. It all started with your nursery, which is French magazine ready, and my approach to making sure everything was perfect was very dialed in, from your supplies, to asking my sister-in-law for the right babysitters, to making sure the birth plan was all taken care of, complete with hospital room, the best doctors, and your grandparents there and ready.

But you didn’t come. You were late. And I waited, day after day. I should have known then that you would be teaching me incredible life lessons from the moment you were born. My birth plan? Not your plan. OK. Got it. You didn’t even want to be the astrological sign you were supposed to be and waited nine days and skipped right on into your Libra nest.

Those first few days in the hospital, I thought I would die from fear. Your weight was dropping, we were not sleeping, and I was ill. Dizzy and completely spun out. I brought you home (the first drive was cliché-worthy, surreal and fun), and when I brought you into this perfect room I built for you with your father, it was as if no one else in the world was there. It was just you and me and my concern with keeping you alive.

This did not go away for the first three months. I wanted to control everything. Make every bath the most amazing sound-tracked event that ever existed. (I think you are more musical for it, and you love to dance, so that’s good.) I was up for days on end. Eating and sleeping were just difficult because I was concerned about your sleep training and getting your bottle down and making sure you burped and that your room was dark and don’t get me started on the temperature of the room. I would stand at the thermostat and tinker all day. I became like a bad sketch in a comedy show that wasn’t even funny but more a study in the decline of one’s sanity.

I showed you everything and explained everything. Red truck. Yellow duck. The cow says moo. You could count to ten by the time you were one and a half. And up to twenty by two years. It was amazing. You could name over thirty animals and spell and write your own name on your second birthday.

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