I win.

In case you thought the Mother of the Year Award was still up for grabs, I have bad news for you: I've won. It's not even close. The winning event took place Saturday morning when I turned my back for three seconds and turned back to see Talia, holding a can of Scrubbing Bubbles, hands and mouth covered in the aforementioned bubbles. I screamed, ran over, grabbed her, washed her mouth and hands repeatedly with water, nursed her, fed her food, gave her sippies of water and milk, and spent time on the phone with Poison Control. Turns out Scrubbing Bubbles in some nasty shit. Sorry girls, you lose.

PS: This took place not 24 hours after Talia hit her head at the JCC and got her first bruise. Ugh.

PPS: Wait, looks like someone out there still sucks as a mother more than I do.

Honorable Mention???

OK--so this is my first time posting. I hope I'm doing this right.

Not sure if I'd win the award, but maybe an honorable mention. I have two boys: matt (5) and sam (2). They can get pretty crazy before bedtime and Sam had been sleep-deprived all week (birthday, ear infection, crazy two-year molar neverending torture). They were dancing around and playing and Sam seemed to be going in fast forward. It was hilarious. Plus my parents were over so the kids were also in giddy show-off mode.

Being the weirdo I am, I went online and within about a minute found the Benny Hill theme song. It seemed to fit perfectly. I put it on and we all laughed as my kids ran around in a psychotic frenzy.

They next day they were both begging me to put on the "funny" song. So I happily obliged. It's just a harmless instrumental song, right? They don't know that the show it comes from was a perverted little British guy that ran around groping women. I put the song on the iPod and it started a heavy rotation in our home. But Matt can read AND work the iPod so within minutes he started referring to "Benny Hill" and how much he likes it. I'm just hoping that he doesn't go to school and tell his friends, or worse, his teacher. "Hey Mrs. Hooven. At our house we love Benny Hill." Yikes.

Not sure if this one can be undone. We'll just have to hope it runs its course for a while and then we can phase it out. But I have to admit, I don't want it to go. There's something about that song. It doens't matter what kind of day you've had. Try it. That song will make you laugh, or at least bring a smile to your face. It's pure silliness. I told you I was weird.

There are other Moms of the Year out there!

If you read the BabyCenter blogs like I do (some of them are good, some are terrible), you might enjoy this thread about stupid mommy-brain moments.

A Zen Story

To piggyback on Amy's last post... there are good days and there are bad days.

On the eve of Oren's birth I am thinking about this past year and am in awe of how many changes we have made individually and as a family, it is stunning and almost too much to digest. I am looking around the living and dinning rooms right now and even those two rooms have undergone significant rearranging (just tonight we rearranged the dinning room so that Oren has room to play and move about - sorry tall people the chandelier is more exposed and prone to more head banging)! Oren is now in daycare and while I look for work, I am working on my own professional development (info to be revealed soon).

I think as many of us are approaching the year mark, we are figuring out how to create our "new normal." But didn't I just reveal the indigestible changes that our little ones have brought and will continue to bring about? I did! So moral of my story... there are good days and there are bad days... but the days pass and we might as well keep growing (babies and moms too!).

It gets better

Sending your child away from you, eventually starts to feel okay if all the pieces are in place:

1. trust in the care providers;
   
2. his happiness and well-being;
3. and contentment with my own job.

There might be other factors, but at the moment, these are enough to keep us going.
:)

Feeling like a Fraud

Just for the record....I came home after talking with Carly about how positive I'm feeling about daycare and how it's the right choice for us....and promptly began to feel horrible about leaving Owen and not having him with ME.

I ended the night with myself crying silently as he fell asleep nursing. We had, yet again, a single-mommy night (Ryan working late), a miserable time trying to eat dinner, (he has been refusing vegetables and slimes everything all over his hair and face and in his ears), he was horrible in the bathtub (he keeps trying to stand up, slips, gets mad, and starts all over again), and then he cried the entire time changing him into pajamas and getting ready for bed.

My brain KNOWS that this is the hardest time of day for him because he's tired...but it's not really FAIR that it's the time I get to spend with him.

Right now I'm feeling very sad that I didn't have much energy when I came home today....that I didn't have much patience either...and that very soon,
all day...
I will spend more time with other people's kids than I do with my own.

That last realization is enough to make me throw up.

Things I'm learning about daycare: Part 2

1. He has started to understand that I LEAVE him for awhile, and when I see that realization on his face, it's NOT fun.

1b. The quicker I leave, the better it is for him.

2. Leaving your child makes you feel strange inside. A cross between hungry and empty and broken-hearted.

2b. Daycare is just the first place I will experience this feeling. My colleague told me she has the same feeling in the bottom of her stomach. She just moved her daughter into her dorm room for her first year at college.

3. Eventually, the daycare staff will grow to love him. I'm starting to see them enjoying him and waving to him as he leaves. It makes him smile...and that feels good to me. He is building a relationship with them, I am building trust in them, and this even MORE reason to choose a place with low turnover rate in staff.

4. They think of great things to do with the kids! I hadn't thought of having older kids blow bubbles towards him..he LOVED it...and I hadn't thought of having him listen to a book on tape. They told me he actually listened and looked at the pictures for awhile! I am having fun imagining him "dancing" to the music with the other kids. He loves watching the big kids too. Daycare will be much more fascinating for him than I am.

4b. At the end of the day, no matter how interesting it has been, he will always want me.

Ode to Car Keys

Someone, please, explain to me why chewing on metal car keys is bad? Because, right about now, it's a lifesaver.

I have just enough energy to sit and check my email...and the fact that he's entertained himself with my car keys for 25 minutes now is heavenly.

He could poke himself in the eye with them as he thrashes them around? They might have germs and all kind of gross stuff on them? He could cut himself?

Eh.
Whatever.

(Postscript: I wrote this last night..and this morning I spent 27 minutes with Ryan, SEARCHING for my keys. They were under a toy. I just answered my own question as to WHY it's bad to play with keys.)

dear LORD

If I were a religious sort, I would probably fall down upon my knees and PRAY for some transcendental power to bestow upon me, the strength to play with my son after a full day of work.

LORDY.


This is hard.

I'm propping my eyelids up with toothpicks just to see if Owen is still within my "catch-him-before-he-chokes-on-that-piece-of-(fill-in-the-blank)" range.

"no crying" makes all the difference

I love those days when it feels like ABSOLUTELY nothing went wrong, nothing is bad, things are funny, everyone is smiling, and life is good.

I suppose I could have vented about green beans smeared in Owen's hair, the fact that I keep forgetting to put a bath mat in the tub and he keeps slipping, or maybe that he pulled an entire plant and dirt down all over the floor and carpet....but I honestly had to SEARCH to find those things in my brain.

Today was a great day because he went to sleep without crying, we had a great time as a family today, and he's so darn CUTE.

It's amazing how good life can be when he doesn't cry a lot. I think that makes the biggest difference in the whole world.

Yay for a day of no crying!

Feeling like I am not cut out for this....

So as Oren is rapidly growing, physically and mentally, he shifts through new phases. It always takes me a while to catch on to what his needs are (even though he is definitely trying to let me know) through screaming usually. Through out the year I made sure to change up his environment, activities, rearrange toys/books/food etc... now he is becoming mobile (sort of) and I am not sure what he needs and how to provide it for him. I think he is frustrated with scootching but has not figured out pulling up, cruising or walking but clearly wants to get moving. (Side note: why can't I make paragraphs in this thing?!?) I keep having this thought "well, at least soon he will be in day care and they can give him what he needs since I can't deal with it or haven't figured out how." I hate it! I hate that thought. I want to give him everything he needs, I don't want to have the feeling of relief as it is someone elses problem now. I don't want to feel like a part time parent or like I am giving up on him. That is how I am feeling. This sucks right now.

Mark this Day

Owen took his first steps today!

He was in the kitchen of my neighbor's house and I was coming in after being gone for a few hours. He was cruising along the cabinets and then walked 5 steps to my legs. I was so flabbergasted, I couldn't say anything..I stood there with my jaw dropped, staring. My neighbor and her two daughters didn't see it...they were busy preparing lunch! So, in my excitement, I made him do it over and over, and over again!

Maybe now that he got this out of the way, he will focus on not mauling his friends and pinching their eyes out! For the record books, he is 8 months and 5 days old.

Now....do I call and tell my husband, or do I wait and have Owen do it for him? I'm torn. Half of me wants to call right now and share the news...but I'm not sure how I would feel if it were me.
Oh...I can't decide!

But wait! I'm Sister of the Year, too!

I am going to visit my sister, mother, aunt, and grandmother this weekend. My husband can't come, so Talia and I are traveling alone. I was guilted into going and do not look forward to the trip in any way.

My sister, being as she is energetic and single and 29, is borrowing a jogging stroller from a friend so she and I can run a 5K on Sunday morning with Talia in tow. That I'm doing this at all is a martyrdom situation - I don't want to do it but she does so I gave in. Talia will freak out if she has to spend an hour in the stroller, and I'll end up pissing her off by stopping in the middle of the run.

My sister was shocked and annoyed ("bamboozled") when I told her that, no, we cannot leave Talia with my mother and aunt for two hours to get massages between the 5K and the party my mom and aunt are hosting in Talia's honor. My mother simply cannot handle watching Talia for two hours while prepping a house party. Frankly, she cannot watch Talia awake at all, and she admits as much. This is the same woman who literally had a panic attack trying to feed Talia three spoonfuls of baby food a month ago because it was getting on her chin, and I was standing five feet away!

So my sister is mad, and I'm flabbergasted that she thinks a nine-month-old can be shlepped from a 5K to her grandmother's house to a party. Bamboozled. Is there a special Sister-of-the-Year award, too?

52 proven stress reducers

anyone look at amy's links list to the right of this post? it's great, particularly the list of stress reducers. how sensible and easy to implement they are! they're going on my fridge asap.

New Mantras

I like Lydia's:

"We raise them to leave us." (Or something like that....it comes in handy when I'm feeling fairly sad about leaving him at daycare.)


I'm also enjoying this one:

"They don't have to love him like I do to take good care of him."

guilty

I'm feeling slightly guilty about this fact:

I replaced our plastic water bottles BEFORE I replaced Owen's baby bottles.

I still haven't replaced his bottles, but I will avoid drinking out of the Nalgene now.

(Anyone else SICK of this bisphenol A topic? I am.)

I could make myself feel better about this guilt-issue by remembering that on airplanes, they make you put on your own oxygen mask first before assisting a child.

Things I'm Learning About Daycare

1. If putting your child to sleep by letting them fuss or cry by themselves for a few minutes is your only (non-driving) way to get your kid to sleep....daycare will not be fun for the teachers or your child (They don't have a quiet, dark room to put him in, he is constantly around others and they can't let him cry too long.)

2. No one has any answers for me about how to get him to fall asleep by voluntarily putting his head down and sleeping.

3. You have to buy extra of everything to keep at daycare; If you have "just enough" for yourselves at home, it won't be enough. (extra bottles, blanket, clothes, bibs, food, crib sheets, diapers, etc)

4. Your child may not eat/drink the same way at daycare as he/she does at home for you.
(I.E. consumed 1/2 of what he normally does.)

5. If the teachers look tired when you pick up your kid, but say that he "is adjusting," assume that he was crying all day very similar to your worst day ever. If he's hoarse when you pick him up, this is further evidence of his "adjustment."

6. The teachers may appreciate cookies, but they appreciate you picking him up early, even better.

7. Things happen. If he falls down for you, he's going to fall down there too.

8. They don't care if shows up in his pajamas.

9. The ratio is not one-to-one anymore. Now, there is a poor, underpaid soul who has to deal with your child AND at least 3 others who may or may not share the same temperment. If he is crying more, it might be because he can't be held or picked up as often anymore.

What goes in...

What goes in...must come OUT.

I had the worst diaper blow-out of ALL TIME today....this AFTER EJ had a wonderful diaper explosion..at the cloth diaper place...except mine was in a pampers paper/plastic diaper.

First of all...I think it's important to mention that he was saving up all the morning pooping until after he got home from daycare. I mean there was SHIT LOADS of poop.

Secondly, the pampers diaper acted EXACTLY like a sliding board for all the transitional icky poop..it went right up his back into the onsie.
This was reminiscent of breastmilk poop explosions....but a lot SMELLIER.

I was trying to take off his onesie and I didn't REALIZE that it had gone up the back...until it was too late and I smeared it all the way up his back and into his hair. It was the most disgusting poopy diaper change since the day at Suburban Square when Carly helped me change him because he exploded there.

Wow. It was so disgusting, I picked him, the poopy diaper 1/2 atttached, and the onesie hanging by one arm...and plopped him right in the tub. He had SO MUCH poop still on him that he created a big huge poopy smear in the bottom of the tub.

It was FANTASTIC...and I wish I had my camera...because he had peaches/banana/oatmeal smeared all over the front of him...and green poop all over the back of him.
Thank goodness for bath tubs and the luxury of running water!

Dog for SALE...very CHEAP

After getting Owen to sleep, (by nursing him..the ONLY way that worked after rocking, bouncing, singing, etc.) for a nap, Roscoe decides to bark loudly at the imaginary threats lurking in our house.

#@%*ing DOG.

Owen woke up screaming...(after sleeping 15 minutes), and I have been unable to get him to go back to sleep. Yet, he is so tired, because when I brought him downstairs to rejoin the world and play, all he did was cry.

So, I'm listening to him scream in his crib from downstairs.

I'm wondering how long I'm going to have to pay for the 3 day-trip to Indiana.

What else is a well-intentioned mother to think?

After reading about 6 or 7 articles about bisphenol-A (after seeing a report on ABC news about dangerous plastics and baby bottles), I found this quote in most of the news reports:

"...the panel expressed 'some concern' about the chemical and noted that people may want to reduce their exposure."

(Baby bottles with the chemical appear to include Playtex, Avent, and all other major brands we buy.)

(The panel does not support a ban on this chemical in plastics..but CA is trying to pass legislation and the ecological groups do support a ban.)

Well...Jesus....when every single source (even the industry-biased ones) indicate a possibility of affecting a baby's genitals and reproductive functions and says to "reduce exposure" what ELSE am I supposed to think?

The "Science Now" journal suggests that it is unlcear how the FDA or other organizations will react to the report.

I wonder how many other moms and dads saw the TV report saying that "baby bottles may be dangerous" and are now FLIPPING OUT about the prospect of their daughter's menstruating at age 8 and their son's balls shrinking.

I'm not sure ABC News and like organizations are ready for the panic that JUST MIGHT ensue.

Roscoe VS. Owen

It's official! Owen has tied Roscoe-the-pug in IQ points! He's finally catching up!
(While it's doubtful that Roscoe will ever be able to "clap," we're always hopeful.)
Today they were playing "tug-of-war" with Roscoe's rope!

Roscoe still has a slight lead...but here are the stats:

Trick Roscoe Owen
crawling 0 1
walking 1 0
lying down 1 1
sitting 1 1
standing 0 1
clapping 0 1
waving 0 1
"potty"trained 1 0

On Command:
"give me 5" 1 1
"give me 10" 1 1
"roll over" 1 0
"sit" 1 0
"clap" 0 0
"come here!" 1 1

Totals: 9 9

Narcissistic Mommy? Maybe!

I just read this article about "Mommy Literature" in an online version of Newsweek. It's interesting...but it doesn't go anywhere in particular, other than to say it's not an interesting genre to read. (Like this blog... hee hee.)
The author does justify "mommy angst," tells us we have more time to worry about our parenting choices than our previous generations and therefore, more time to decide if ours are the correct choices. She also says that the choices, the minutia...it's all uninteresting to read about. Important to us at the time...but not interesting.
To some degree, I think she's right. When I go back to work, I'm not going to care, or have time to ponder about diaper choices, discipline strategies, organic or non-organic, or even wonder about the most efficient stroller.

I do wonder if I could have spent these 8 1/2 months worrying about other things...(or even better...not worrying at all) but it also seems like a rite of passage to contemplate all the choices, dangers, and parenting styles. Even if it only means that I end up being in the same middle ground I find myself in on just about every issue in existence.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Yummy Vs. Slummy: And the winner is ... who cares? We've become narcissist mommies, obsessed with our parenting choices and defensive when confronted with others'."
http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/20121799/site/newsweek/page/0/

Two a.m. Wake Up Call

Last Thursday, Julia and I drove to Ocean City, MD to visit with my friend Kim who was staying there with her family. Kim, who is not married and has no kids, said that she would be happy to share a hotel room with us for the night. I reminded her that even though Julia is normally sleeping through the night that anything could happen and that she often screams when going to sleep. "No problem," answered Kim. "I'm used to it since my sister has three kids."

Julia went to sleep easily and I marveled at how peaceful she looked sleeping in her pack-n-play. How sweet, I thought to myself.

It was sweet until she woke up crying at 2 a.m. Since Kim was sleeping in the next bed, I picked Julia up right away. She stopped crying and I held her in my arms as she drifted back to sleep. I knew that she would wake up and cry when I put her back down because that's what she always does. But she usually falls asleep a few minutes later.

"Waaaa, waaaa!" As expected, she cried right away. I knew that she could see me in my bed so I turned my back to avoid eye contact. (Does that sound mean?) I also tried pulling the covers over my head. She'll stop soon, I told myself. Well, twenty minutes later (I know because I looked at my watch) she was still crying and soon someone knocked on the door. Am I horrible for letting her cry that long? I honestly thought that any minute she would fall asleep.

I ignored the door but instead picked Julia up again. This time I nursed her, she fell asleep and then woke up AGAIN when I put her down. But I let her cry it out and she fell asleep shortly thereafter (what I thought would happen the first time around).

Besides me being up for over an hour in the middle of the night, we had a fun time at the beach. But I'm not sure that Kim will be eager to share a room with us again any time soon.

Do Babies Like Coffee?

Yesterday I was at our new house with Julia, meeting more chimney contractors. I had her on the porch in her portable high chair and left her briefly to walk inside. When I came out, her tray was completely covered with coffee and she was playing happily in this newfound liquid. Her shorts were soaked too! She obviously grabbed my coffee cup after I walked away. Thank goodness I always drink iced coffee! (Not because of Julia, just because I have always loved iced coffee).

Mom? Where's the nipple?

I am continually reminded that I should be working on the belly flab around my belly button. Not because it looks like a donut now (it used to be flat). Not because it looks like chicken skin, all loose and wrinkly. Not because my pants are a wee bit tight.

No. I am reminded because Owen very often confuses this flabby middle section for a boob and tries to latch on to it.

Humiliating.

Ouch

For REAL now....
Someone should really watch me a little more carefully because apparently I am an unfit parent. (Not to put the blame on anyone else...this is TOTALLY my fault. But honestly....)

I totally dropped Owen from off of my lap today. We were looking at the pictures in a catalog that came in the mail and I don't know what happened.

I don't know if he arched away from me, or if I was moving him around...either way, he ended up falling off my lap backwards and hitting the back of his head on the floor. (Carpet on top of hardwood..but still! I heard the thud! It took his breath away...then the screaming.) I felt SO bad.

I must be the clumsiest momma around. Poor Owen is getting the brunt of this and I feel horrible.

I know kids get bumps and war wounds from increased mobility...but honestly, I think my heart breaks every time it happens and it's most likely my fault.

He's fine.
But HONESTLY. I don't know what's wrong with me. If anyone has any clues from observing us, please let me know. He cannot continue to be battered like this! HELP!

The Hair Factor

I just have to laugh....whenever Owen crawls over to Ryan...he pulls on his t-shirt and chest hair. Ryan lets out a scream of agony...and Owen laughs!

This makes motherhood a little more amusing :)

A moment's peace...PLEASE

I'm so glad that Ryan is taking Owen with him to Home Depot this morning.
I hate to admit this....but...well this is the forum for it:
I'm so tired of seeing Owen.

He climbed all over me for the 5 hours of travel yesterday and if he climbs on me this morning, I might just flip out.

(The trip went extremely well..and Owen was an angel. But, WOW, it's good to be finished with traveling.)

Air-head

Approximately how many times can you bump your baby's head on an airplane (the seats, the overhead storage compartments, the doorway....) before the passengers and crew decide you are an incompetent mother and take the baby away???

Sleep and the Bad Mother

All mothers feel responsible when their children have problems sleeping, but only a select few of us actually are responsible.

Talia had been napping terribly for months. Sure, she'd had brief spells here and there when she would take a 60-90 minute nap and I'd think, "Wow, her sleep is finally consolidating. How fabulous for her brain growth and my mental health." Then the next day she'd be back to her 30-45 minute tricks.

I'd known she sleeps lightly (I have no idea whose child she is) so finally gave into Benjamin's suggestion to work on the first floor while Talia naps. Lo and behold - if the typing, walking, dog pacing, and telephone ringing don't wake her, the child can sleep for 120-140 minutes at a time. Holy cr-p! I have tested it to make sure it wasn't just her age or something - if I work upstairs one day, short naps. Downstairs the next day - long naps. All that nap time, fussy awake time when she clearly hadn't slept enough, all of it - my fault.

Son of a b-tch. If only I had listened to my husband sooner: the story of my life.

A Cautionary Tale

Books with flaps or tabs can be a choking hazard.

Owen was cruising along the edge of the sofa...I was typing an email right next to him.

He kept making noises like he was chewing the "o's" from his tray.
Then he made a gagging sound (he didn't choke..thank goodness) and I looked over and saw something red in his mouth.

While I wasn't looking, he managed to chew or tear off the tab to a little red book. He had the whole tab in his mouth and he was chewing it (and walking around) like he was intending to EAT it. Or at least SWALLOW it.

I should have read my own post about "babyproofing everything."

They hide the velcro too well....

This is SUCH a minor thing...but Owen begs to differ.

It is generally not a good idea to wipe your child's face with the hook side/rough side of a velcro bib. He kept crying when I wiped his face off after eating oatmeal. This isn't unusual, so I kept going.

I didn't realize it until I looked down at what part of the bib I was using on his face. ACK.
Sorry Owen.

Suffer Now AND Suffer Later??

So E.J. was up again every two hours last night...this time punctuated by screaming fits again about 10 minutes after each time we put him down...and can I ever relate to that desire to just throw him out the window. Thank goodness in the morning I can look at him, love him, and talk to him again but around 4:30 in the morning...it's a whole other story. Every night before I go to bed I ask to be a patient, loving mom no matter how he acts, but at some point I seem to end up in tears.

This would be so much more tolerable if I just knew HOW LONG this is going to last. Is this going to be for one week and then improve? Or is the fact that I'm nursing him back to sleep whenever he gets up dooming me to spoil him and then wake up even more, like every hour during the night? Do I listen to the side of me that says he's waking up for a reason so I need to be there for him? Or to the other side that says I am only teaching him bad habits through what I am doing?

Baby-proof Everything!

From my neighbor, Nicole:

"Don't forget to baby-proof the bathroom.
I had forgotten to do the cabinet with the trash and walked in one day to find my daughter holding one of my discarded razors!"

A List: Things I Should Think Twice About

1. ...that sometimes I will give Owen formula instead of breastfeeding at times purely because it's easier and not because there isn't enough milk, but because I don't want someone sucking on me.
   
2. ...that a peanut butter-filled rawhide bone might not be the best dog toy choice with a crawling, teething baby in the house (YUCK!)
   
3. ...predicting that the baby is going to fall while pulling up on something, and watching it happen
4. ...leaving a baby alone with a potted plant nearby (dirt apparently looks tasty)
5. ...that each of Owen's diapers will take 500 years to decompose...and I could choose something else...but I'm cheap and lazy
6. When reading picture books: Do a sheep and a goat make the same noise? Baaaa?
   

A Mother Duck kind of day

MOMMA DUCK WINS A NOMINATION FOR THE (ANTI) MOTHER OF THE YEAR AWARD

It was a busy two-lane road in a high-traffic shopping area. My sister-in-law spotted a Momma Duck and her 6 or 7 little ducklings trying to cross this heavily traveled road. Jenn turned her minivan into the parking lot as we tried to figure out what to do about the ducks. They were sure to be duck pancakes. They didn't have a chance against that traffic.
I jumped out and tried to get the momma duck to back up and turn around the other way.

It worked..kind of. She was NOT happy with me...she looked mad, actually. But, she turned in the other direction. For a minute. She was really taking a detour around me back towards the road. She was rather insistent about waddling towards the rushing cars.

We thought about putting her in a box and taking her to the pond outside my mother-in-law's condo. How do you get a mad, momma duck in a box WITH the ducklings? We had to do something...so I walked into a bar right there and asked for a box.

(This is starting to sound like multiple bad jokes: Why did the momma duck cross the road?...This crazy woman walked into a bar....)

The bartender came out, a customer had a box in their trunk, and we debated about the success of this mission. The Momma duck, meanwhile, continued trying to turn back to cross the road, which, by the way, had nothing on the other side except a mall, massive parking lots, and a gas station. No woods, ponds, or anything remotely like a duck habitat anywhere in sight.

While debating, the Momma duck moved her ducklings into a ditch and we lost sight of them.
I don't know what happened to them...but they were still headed toward the road when we gave up and drove home.

My point of sharing this story is that if a Momma duck can attempt to cross Mentor Avenue with her baby ducklings...oh and I forgot to mention that she STEPPED ON ONE OF HER DUCKLINGS...
If Momma duck can have this kind of day, then perhaps we shouldn't feel so badly about our own mistakes. It might just be natural to make mistakes. Maybe we could just take the pressure off of ourselves and count it as "a Mother Duck kind of day."

Are We All Going to Forget How Hard it Was Raising Babies 20 Years From Now?

We were having a family reunion - my cousins, aunts and uncles at my grandparents' house. (I am the oldest of many cousins, the only one that's married and the only one with kids.) Nathan was using me as a jungle gym (something we call "climbing mount mommy"). He wasn't particularly misbehaving; he was just being his mischievous normal 2 1/2 year old with alot of energy. One of my male cousins (with two male siblings) asked his mom if this is how they behaved. Her response - "No, you kids were perfect!" The response made me laugh. I know that neither Nathan or I are perfect. I quickly responded loudly to the audience of my cousins: "Don't kid yourselves. This is exactly what we were like when we were young. We also abused our parents. This should give you plenty of reason to appreciate our parents for all the crap they put up with all these years!" My mother was sitting right next to me and I hope that realizes that I appreciate her much more now that I have a child of my own.

I hope to have a similar moment in my future - one in which Nathan appreciates all the shit I put up with in order for me to do what I believe is best for him.

My Mother of the Year Award Entry

My son is almost 3 now, but our first 1 1/2 of his life were tough! What is my definition of tough? I think I had the thought "I could just kill you" at least once a night EVERY night during that time while he was crying yet another time. (How could this not win the award.) This while all my friends had babies that went to sleep by themselves and slept the whole night since they were 3 months old. What was I doing wrong? What was wrong with my child? I felt alot of guilt, I blamed myself alot.

Somehow time passed. Nathan is still what I woud consider a poor sleeper. Unless reminded that he will only get a sticker in the morning if he does not wake up mommy in the middle of the night, he'll wake me up at some point - to ask me where Nemo is or where his water bottle is. He'll attempt to go back to sleep, and as I finally doze off 20 minutes later, he'll call me again. This time I sternly tell him he may not call me again until "the sun wakes up", or else.... (Nemo comes to sleep with me). I remind myself that tomorrow before he goes to sleep I MUST remember to promise him a sticker if he doesn't call me until the sun wakes up. On a good night, he does not call me, but sleeps generally at MOST 10 hours. So what's my point? I finally stopped blaming myself. I *try* (but certainly don't succeed as much as I'd like) to detach myself from how well or poorly he slept, in order not to get upset often.

Kids can't be perfect. They all have imprefections. My son's strong imperfection is his sleep. Sucks for us. But that's life, right?

All kidding aside, I share my "I could just kill you" story because I believe more of you have had that thought at some point than would like to admit. I just want you to know that you are not alone. I think alot of times just knowing that you are not alone, particularly in hardship, can be a big help. May you never get to this point. But if you do, know that we at the "Mother of the Year Award" understand and want to help!

On the Offense

I didn't even notice Owen's attack. It wasn't until Carly shrieked, "Oh No!" that I looked down...
Owen managed to knock over his friend Oren, and then practice his squeezing pincer grasp on Oren's eyeball.

Owen had practically climbed on TOP of Mt. Oren so as to better reach the eyeball.

Poor Oren looked and sounded as though he had been attacked by an offensive lineman.

Carly and Oren had to leave Borders and go home.

This all happened while standing in the book section promoting calmness, zen awareness, peaceful mindsets and happiness.

Owen was very aware. At least he was. :)

Suffer Now or Suffer Later

I am adding a new slogan to my arsenal, where the first two were:
1. "I'm not there yet," and
2. "By [almost] any means necessary."

Slogan Three is, drumroll please... "Suffer Now or Suffer Later [or both]!"

One thing I've learned from parenting my two dogs is that you can discipline them fervently when they are young or for the rest of their lives. My neighbor has a golden retriever so good that you'd think he drugs it. The dog can be staring down a beef-coated squirrel in a tree; if the owner whistles, the dog comes trotting home immediately. But, no drugs, he was just very firm with it as a puppy and now it knows better than to cross him. My husband and I, schmucks that we are, tried our best to discipline our dogs when they were young but weren't consistent or firm enough. Now you need a squirt gun to walk into our house without getting dog-attacked. We weren't willing to suffer then by disciplining them, so everyone suffers now!

There are so many examples of this in parenting. I need to stick to my guns more than I do - with the dogs, with my child[ren], with everything. Because one day the kids will be bigger than you are, and they'd better have learned to trot home when you whistle by then. :)

I Tagged You!

Hi Amy T.,

I tagged you for a "meme." Check out my blog (tulipandturnip.blogspot.com) to see what you need to do!
:) Amy

By Any Means Necessary

What I have noticed lately, is that I REALLY appreciate the flexible thinker. This becomes especially true with anything related to motherhood.
The phrase "school of thought" is particularly irking me today. I was "categorized" recently as belonging to one particular "school of thought" with regards to sleeping and getting kids to nap.

ANYONE who has talked with me over the last few months knows the trouble that I have had getting Owen to sleep. I've tried everything. I've even done the things I don't like doing. Just IN CASE it works for him.

So, when a person, who knows nothing of this struggle, categorized me and announced that I belong to a particular philosophy, and that she belongs to another, I was completely overwhelmed.

I was struck down with amazing emotions:
1)fear..that I was doing it wrong;
2)guilt...that I was still doing it;
3)confusion...over what might be "better;"
4)incompetence... feeling as though I'm not a good mother;
and then...as I began to think about it further:
5)anger...that I was judged and typecast by another mother.

I think the phrase "school of thought" implies that one is close-minded. In this case, I have explored options in all "schools." Just because I settled on one method does not mean that it will work with the next kid, nor do I cast aside other methods.
Perhaps the worst thing we can do to another mother is imply that there are sides to line up on, with apposing schools, as if this amazing art of motherhood was a battle to be won.

There is such a thing as moderation. Just as there is also a middle ground.
And what I would like to have said, in retrospect, is that "I've tried a lot of things, and I'm doing what has worked for him." It's a little bit of this...and a lot of that. Like any good chef knows, there is no exact recipe, and many times it needs to be tweaked a little.

It's amazing how a one-second-comment can throw your brain into a tailspin, isn't it?
I am comforted by Lydia's thought: "...by any means necessary." This might just be the way to survive being a mom.

Changing Table and Electrical Items Don't Mix

Our dresser doubles as a changing table. I also keep a small lamp on the end that I use when reading to Julia before bed. This was no problem until Julia became so active that I could hardly keep her still long enough to change her diaper. (This is especially fun if it's a poopy diaper!) Anyway, the other day she was rolling around, trying to grab everything, etc. when...voila! She knocked the lamp right to the ground where the light bulb shattered. It was an old lamp from my classroom with small beads on the end of the shade (fine for third graders but a major choking hazard for babies - bad Mom!). So I looked down to see broken glass and tiny beads everywhere. Fortunately, the mess was contained behind a big chair and I cleaned it up right away. But when I think about what could have happened...Needless to say I soon removed both the lamp and wipe warmer from her table. (I've actually replaced the lamp with a smaller, non-beaded version and I try to remember to remove it when changing her. I don't learn, do I?)

Talia needs a parasol

Nothing says "bad mother" like an infant with a suntan. Talia has been outside (un-sun-blocked, un-hatted, and un-blanketed) basically every day since the sun came out again. It shows. I should have my license revoked. Oh wait, I don't need a license for this job. :)

Could be ticketed for this one...

He was all buckled in. The 5 point harness was COMPLETELY buckled...at all 5 points. The carrier bar was even in the position the manual said is best.

Thank goodness neighbor, Mike is a good driver, because somehow we made it all the way back from West Chester without actually attaching the carseat to the seat.

Wonderful.

I might not have admitted this one to all of you. However, maybe posting it will remind myself and others to double CHECK when putting the carseat in another car.

Itsy Bitsy Spider

This goes into the "just plain dumb" category:

ALL of my life I thought that "Itsy Bitsy Spider" went up the water spout.

In the bathtub.

I don't know why. Maybe that's where my mom sang it?

So every time I sang the song, I envisioned the spider going up the tub spout. The rain that came down was the from the pipes. And the sun? Well, I never understood that part. What was the sun doing in the bathtub?

It all became clear when I read the BOOK to Owen. (There is one.)

Apparently, the spider lives OUTSIDE. He goes up the "garden spout." Which makes a HELL of a lot more sense. "Down came the rain" makes more sense too..because he's climbing up the rain gutter. "Out came the sun and dried up all the rain...."
Well.
Of course.
My whole life, and I never thought about where the damn spider lived.

The MOST fun toy in the room

...is not the cool green caterpillar with crinkly sounds, that beeps when you push it. Nor is it the water-filled aquarium toy complete with floating fish, crabs, and clams. Not even close, is the stuffed Eyeore, soft and fuzzy.

No. It's the electrical wire FAR out of sight (or so I thought), that does NOTHING but sit there, lurking behind the couch.

MMMMMmmmm. Yummy. It apparently tastes good too.
Great.

Melting breast pump

For those who know Ryan's melting-breast-pump-story...it's NOTHING compared to this one!
I'm just glad to know I'm not the only one who had this happen.
I can still taste the burnt plastic smoke. BLECHHHHH!
(Oh...and Andrea....we replaced all the parts to your breast pump. It's fully functional again. Sorry.)

Midnight Belly Flop

"Bump."

That is the sound of one baby landing.

On the floor.

Having rolled off my bed.

At 1:11 a.m.

The same day I said I had no real child-endangerment stories.

She's fine. Nary a scratch. Let's hope this is the worst thing I ever do.

Sister-in-law blues

So I know I should be so happy that my brother and sister-in-law had a baby one month after I did--my son has a cousin close in age, we can go through everything together, family events will be so fun...but it is really, really hard. I had to promise myself today not to go on the blog again that they made about her, which brags about how she is the angel baby and at one month old already sleeps through the night and into the morning, smiles all the time, is only fussy when she's hungry...this is what I read after getting up every two hours last night and EJ is not too into the smiling yet...and as hard as I try to just remind myself of all the reasons I am grateful that EJ is who he is and how we are so lucky to have him, it's hard for me not to get really down when I read how easy this is for someone else.

That's why it's good for me to read this blog and know that other mothers are going through what I am and have mixed emotions about this whole parenting thing.

Amy, this might give you some competition for the award

This dates back a few weeks. Claire and I were at Home Depot on one of our typical Saturdays when we were trying to do a ton of stuff around the house. It was well past lunch time and I hadn't eaten anything since early that morning. As luck would have it our friendly neighborhood Home Depot was celebrating spring by having a little cookout. When I saw those flat, gray, low-quality beef hamburger patties on that grill I just had to get myself one. And fast! So, with Claire in the cart I did a quick calculation of the grade of the hill we were standing on and the distance to the aluminum pan of already-cooked burgers, waiting to be snatched up by vultures like me, and determined that I could make a dive for one and Claire and our cart would stay put (or, maybe, at worst move only slightly - yes, I made an allowance for that eventuality). Well, I can confirm that the grade I earned in physics was well earned and still accurately represents my knowledge level in that material: my child went careening off the sidewalk into the parking lot but was, thankfully, stopped by a Home Depot employee who I guess was on crowd control/baby saving duty.

So I was willing to sacrifice my child for a piece of hamburger meat. Pretty sad (and really embarrassing, too)!

Click

Anyone seen the movie Click with Adam Sandler? It's sort of a non-Christmas A Christmas Carol. It made me cry, hard, for an hour after it was over. And I don't cry that much. Rent it, but I'll tell you why I cried in the meantime.

I don't have any real child-endangerment stories (yet). I haven't ever wished my child gone (yet). I haven't ever had the desire to kill her (yet). She cries sometimes and I muddle through and it's okay (so far).

But I have nursed my daughter to get a break from entertaining her (a few times). And I nurse in front of the computer (a lot). I have counted the minutes till nap time (often) or bed time (almost all the time). I have spent many moments imagining the post-weaning vacation I'm going to take with my husband (while I leave her with our parents).

I don't have extreme stories (that's kind of the story of my life: moderation), but I have a fair number of just-being-there-physically-without-really-being-there-mentally stories. Not all the time, but so much more often than I care to admit to myself or anyone else. And that made me cry. For an hour. It's a movie worth renting.

Blow-Outs

How is it that the poop manages to come up the back of the diaper and all the way up the babies' backs? Are there any tricks to prevent this from occuring? Anyone?

The "Ally McBeal" Stage

Have you reached this stage?

To truly understand the "Ally McBeal" Stage of motherhood desperation, you must have first seen the TV show from the '90s where she imagined all kinds of things that she would do, or say...but doesn't. Even if you never saw it, you might have experienced the "Ally McBeal" stage anyway.

This "Ally McBeal" stage might be described as a moment of imagination. This imagined scene is what you WOULD do if Jiminy Fucking Cricket wasn't sitting on your shoulder telling you what a "good" mother would do in any given situation.

I think Amy C. reached this stage in her posting " Say What?" :)

I reached it today when, while driving, I imagined myself careening off the nearest cliff with the screaming infant in the car...and then flashed immediately back to driving along boring Route 1 behind the smelly, fuming, dilapidated brown Volvo. This cliff-diving, of course, would never happen...but there are certain pitch levels of a baby's scream that make you contemplate strange things.

Rolling, rolling, rolling...

In the time it takes to walk one step and place your earrings on your dresser, a baby can roll over TWICE and then roll OFF of the bed.

Just ask me how.

Better yet, ask Owen how he got the big bump on his head.

Thankful that we have a platform bed.
Wishing that we had carpet there.

I WIN the AMOTY* Award for the weekend. (AGAIN)

Isn't ANYONE going to give me competition?
---------------------------------------------

*AMOTY: (Anti-Mother Of The Year)

Say What?

Such a great idea, Amy. Then again, you always were a forward thinker! I was thinking today about funny things people said to me when I was having trouble getting pregnant, such as:

Have you tried relaxing? (My imagined response: "One bottle of wine just doesn't seem to do it anymore...")

My friend tried forever, and nothing worked....and then voila! She got pregnant on her own! (This comment made me want to bludgeon something.)

Have you considered adopting? (This made me feel selfish and vain. Just think of all those orphaned kids...)

Is the problem with you or your husband? (People always need to place the blame...)



And now that I have 14 week old twins, I get these gems:

Are they identical? (My response: "Ummm....one's a boy and one's a girl, so.....)

Boy, you've got your hands full! (My response: "Full of love!")

Better you than me!! (My response: "Yep!")

God knew better than to give me twins! (My response: "More for me!")

Are they twins? (My IMAGINED response: "They were quadruplets, but every time someone asks a stupid question, I give them a baby. Here's yours!" My REAL response: "Yep!")

Did you have them naturally, or did you have help? (I get this question more often than you know, mostly from strangers. My response: "I take all the help I can get. Are you offering?")

What stupid things to people say to you? :)

Thank you Amy!

Dearest Amy,

After many hours of conversation on the topic of "motherhood," like "what the hell were we thinking?, what the hell just happened?, you mean they can't take care of themselves? you mean my husband actually thinks I am going to have sex tonight?..." I am proud that you have created this space for us to share in the journey. It is no wonder that Owen is a Rock Star, he gets it from his mama!

OK - I would love to write more, but Oren is whining and Mike is juggling to entertain him... I better intervene ;)
xoxoxox
Carly

Foreheads and Concrete

Today, Owen learned how to pull himself from a sitting position all the way to his hands and knees.

Unfortunately, he's not accustomed to the hands and knees part and clunked his head on the carpet. That might not have been so bad, except the thin carpet I chose to put him on...had concrete under it instead of padding. OUCH.

Nice job Mom!

Dog + Baby + Dogleash

Imagine, if you will, a baby learning to crawl, rolling around on your floor. Add one part inquisitive, yet sweet baby-licking pug, and one part dog leash still attached to the dog from your walk an hour ago.
Imagine looking up and finding that the dog and the baby have become inexplicably tangled with the leash wrapped perfectly in figure eights around the baby's neck.
The internet might be too much of a distraction for a mommy of a mobile baby.

ever feel like this?

I don't know if this is teething, a 6 month-growth spurt, or new separation anxiety...whatever it is, this constant crying and needing to be held...
I have had it...
I'm done
can't take it anymore

I want someone to take this baby, this creature, this demanding, crying, screaming monster away.
I've totally lost sympathy, compassion, and kindness towards it's screeches and whines...

I don't care if it cries...I don't care if it needs milk...feed it formula, I don't give a damn. Stay the hell away from my sore, drooping, sagging, barely adequate boobs.
I've done everything I can..and get nothing in return. How much of that can a sane person take?

I don't want anymore of this, I don't want to be a mother anymore.

It is madness to sing "twinkle twinkle little star" over wails so loud it hurts your ears. Madness like playing sweet music over a horror movie murder scene...

I stood in the shower feeling like I WAS in a movie, with a camera motionless on my blank expression...water running over my hair and down my face. Screaming, crying, and wailing are heard in the background. If I pick him up, he'll stop, but I'm so tired of holding him.

Later, I'll hear, "How was your day?"
The explanation would really take too long and would achieve nothing.
"Fine," I'll say.

By a leg...

Yesterday, while utterly exhausted, I put Owen on the bed with me. He was all OVER the place the entire day, perfecting the army crawl with dizzying speeds. I put my head back on the pillow and continued to hold on to his leg while he was reaching, twisting, rolling, pulling...then he made a small "ack" noise. I blinked, summoned the energy to turn my head just in time to see that he was completely hanging over the edge of the bed and I was holding him only by a leg.
Ack! indeed.