Who works harder, men or women? January 6, 2011

There are two ways to really get to know someone: marry them and then have children with them. In some ways, it brings out the truest colors you will ever see of your other half.

Having a baby will either strengthen or destroy your marriage, or so my father says. I think he is right. One of the common times for divorce is not only when you first have kids, but also, when they leave and the nest is empty. The stress of children coming into your life impacts your marriage and totally redefines both your lives and, for many, that redefinition becomes about you and the kids and less about each other which leaves two strangers in the house together when the kids hit the road.

As a new mom, I naturally end up talking to other moms and I think the issue with most new families is the same thing from one couple to the next and it’s a BIG issue. It seems that the song everyone is singing is a two-part harmony. The lassie is singing that “he never helps me or doesn’t help enough” while the lad is singing “I work all day, I’m tired”. I think this has been a hit song since about 1400.

Luckily for me, I find myself on the good side of this story. My husband is wonderful at helping me out, although we both have our moments of pointing the finger at the other when we are tired. Sometimes this isn’t with words but certain glances or sighs when the baby cries and we both feel like it’s the “others” turn.  You know what I mean.  If you have kids, I’m positive you do.

BUT even though he’s great, I am still human and I have definitely felt like most women when I have those days that I feel like I do it mostly on my own.

I don’t work outside the home so I can’t speak for working moms but this is how a lot of stay-at-homers feel….

Our job is 24/7 and even when we leave ‘the office’ our office comes with us. Most of the time, getting out of the office is more stressful because it requires packing up the entire building and if the building gets out-of-order in the middle of a trip to the grocery, well….it can get ugly. Price check on anxiety pills aisle 3.

Lance and I recently had a real fast exchange of words about feeling like we never get breaks. He said to me that his job is stressful and non-stop. I totally agree and really, really, really appreciate that he works so hard so that I can stay at home with our daughter. But since we were one upping each other, that was beside the point… =0)

I said, “The day you carry your boss around with you all day on your hip and he cries and demands everything from you that very instance, then we will talk.”  Also he needs to poop his pants and play with baby musical toys all day long to add to that list.  Think you are going crazy at work?  Add add the ABC’s over top of your most stressful moment.  Ah, what a sweet melody.

It sounded like it was a serious argument but really it was lighthearted. I hate even typing stuff like that because it makes parenting and Eden herself seem like a burden but we love her and I want to spend all my time with her sometimes even if I feel like I need a break and that’s true for us both. Even in the moments when neither of us feels like going to get her when she cries, when she enters the room and starts smiling, all of the frustration sort of drifts away. At least until she fusses again…. ;0)

Still, I don’t care how much you love each other or how much you love your baby, at some point or at many points, the old familiar tune of who works harder or who is more tired starts to play.

Let me tell you what Lance and I have learned in this 8 1/2 months.

He works like a dog and he’s tired.

I work like a dog and I’m tired.

When that argument or thought comes up, here’s the universal deal: YOU ARE BOTH EXHAUSTED! And exhausted is exhausted no matter which way you cut it and since you can both relate, that is why you have to do it as a team. Parenting isn’t a one-man game and I pity the people who find themselves married but doing it all alone. If you can both do it together then you can both share the load rather than one person going way over their limit and then becoming useless in both areas of parenting and in being a spouse.

A spouse who is forced to carry the load alone is someone who is secretly heaping fault after fault of their spouse on top of each other building one serious case of bitterness towards their partner. This can and does destroy a marriage.

They argument should never be who works harder.  The whole premise of that argument is selfish because it’s saying, my time and need for a break outweighs yours.  If you are being a selfless spouse, when you and your partner find yourselves pooped on the couch together that’s where you should find yourself working together too out of love for your family and each other.

If you cook, he cleans.

You do the dishes while he folds a load.

He bathes the baby and you feed her dinner.

I heard my sister-in-law say that if my brother gives her a break with time out of the house on her own, when she gets home, it’s still team work and not one person taking on all the responsibility to make-up for having personal free-time.  If you do the whole ‘It’s all you now’ attitude then you will start to dread your break because you know you will have to pay by working overtime when you get home.  Team work works all times, in all situations.  I think this attitude and way of helping your spouse and your family actually creates within you to want to out help your partner. 

This is just how it works, folks.  It’s a practical way to love not just your spouse but your whole family.  You are teaching a silent but loud message to your kids this way too.  Living your life this way in your family breeds feelings of love from the wife and brews respect up for her husband.  At the end of the day, your partner’s needs are met and your kid’s  needs simultaneously.  It kills a lot of arguments to just support each other and be the active player in your family’s life like you should be, anyways.  

Dads:  You don’t want to check out when you get home because your job has been so tiring because only having the interest in spending time with your kids on the weekends means you only get to spend real-time with them 144 days a year out of the full 365.  Your time is short anyways and most dads have, at best, 3 or 4 hours with their children when they get home.  Your bonding time with them as children is reading the books, bathing them, feeding them, etc.  That is how you bond.  Hopefully you miss your kids during the day and see it as a joy to get the privilege of coming home to them.  When they are older they won’t care how tired you were.  They will just know you weren’t involved.  They grow-up one missed day at a time.

Furthermore, love your wife by caring for her and making her job feel important.  Love your wife so your kids will know how to love their spouses and be able to see how a man should love a woman when they make their choice in a partner one day.  When you miss out on your kids because you’ve had a long day.  Someone has to take care of them so your wife will end up doing it solo.  Then, you miss out on them both.  Be what you are:  a family.

Moms:  Trust your husband to care for your kids when he wants to and don’t criticize his efforts.  Even if he leaves poop on the baby changer and the wipes open.  I’m being such a hypocrite right now but I know I’m wrong for doing that to him. 

Staying at home is hard and it’s easy to think you are spending a lot of time with your child because you are physically present but that isn’t always the case.

It’s easy to give your child things to entertain them rather than being engaged with them.  You can be living for your child’s next nap or your next break and doing everything you can to make your day easier and in the midst of that, not be intentional in investing in your child.

You too can be so tired that you are checking out so it’s not specifically a man’s problem.

Both men and women can be MIA due to exhaustion.  Basically, you have to both be intentional in loving each other, loving your children, and working together.  As contrary to popular culture as it may be, love only occasionally comes easy.  The rest is work. 

So, who does really work harder, men or women?

If you are asking that question, you’ve already decided that it’s you that wins this argument.  I challenge you to not ask who works harder but value that you both do and get to workin’! 

Together.

Here. I Give To You My Dreams In This Fashionable Medela Shoulder Bag. January 4, 2011

Say it.

Say you are formula feeding your baby.

FOREVER.

For the past 9 months, that has been the hardest thing for me to say.  I’ve actually even cried over my food at the kitchen table about it.  I’m trying to be expressive for a change.

I breastfed so I know it’s inconvient, painful at times, demanding, all consuming, let’s see what else?  So because I know that, it may seem  crazy to be so sad about it to others who are not enjoying their milkier times or didn’t enjoy them when they were the real Dairy Queen.  BUT something about knowing I can’t makes me remember all the sweet and precious moments of being your baby’s only source of nutrition and survival.  It’s like the external version of the umbilical cord and you just love caring for them that way.

However, I am severing my dream of breastfeeding my baby officialy with the  ceremonial selling of my breastpump.  I have picked it up and thought, “Well, you never know….someday….maybe….right?”  For real, I am just now exiting my denial phase. Throughout these past 9 months I have come up with a million different twists of how I can tweak breastfeeding so it works for me but  I know that the only way for me to try breastfeeding again is by taking the chance of not being medicated and going down that dark postpartum road again and if I was in that position again, speaking for that person, I’d tell you it’s not worth it.  Seems like everyone in my life, including my doctor, has told me its not worth it and I guess I’m getting to that point of seeing that clearly myself.

Coming to this realization, I actually feel a little bit of the excitement I felt when the doctor told me to stop when Eden was a few weeks old.  The feeling was something like screaming FREEDOM  butt-naked from the top of cliff in the rainforest while nature beasts gather around me like Snow White beckoning the birds with her vocals.

Breastfeeding is a huge responsibility and now I can have anyone help me at anytime, anywhere, when my baby is any age. I can appreciate that convience.  That’s huge.  Sure, I wish I could give my baby the best nutrition but I can’t give her excellent nutrition and a garabage can mom. 

I will be sad when, Lord willing, we have another baby and I don’t get those first sweet nursing moments and days in the hospital BUT I think I’m becoming okay with being a bottle slinger. 

Mommy is growing up sniff, sniff.  I get big so fast.

The Other Side of Motherhood: An Ex-PostPartum Mom’s Journey from Xanax to Overjoyed November 10, 2010

I was digging through the big tub of clothes that Eden wore her first few months, trying to see if there were any pieces I could give to someone from our church. Somewhere at the bottom, I thumbed through the onesies that Eden wore over and over her first few weeks here. When I first stumbled on them, my face got hot and I felt a sensation similar to suddenly running into someone who you haven’t seen in a while…someone that it’s really awkward to see. Does that make sense? That feeling of being flushed, nervous, and uncomfortable, feeling the emotions that lead the situation to be uncomfortable in the first place….

I remember when I first bought some of those clothes. I was ecstatic for the little white one with red and hot pink strawberries. I had her wear that a lot when people came to see her. I thought when I bought that outfit that my memories of those days with her in it would be incredibly different. Seeing those clothes now triggered almost a flashback response of panic. An overwhelming sense of, in fact, how overwhelmed I was. When I told my sister about the incident, she asked me if I gave those outfits away, almost certain that I would have. I didn’t though. They are literally hard for me to look at but they were some of her first outfits and she was precious in them. Even if I was falling apart and they remind me of that, they remind me of her too and she was and still is a blessing.

I think what is so disorienting about that time is that I don’t know what feelings came from what. I can’t separate what was just normal new mom feelings and what was the postpartum. I guess in talking with other moms who didn’t go down the road I did, I know many things that are standard: anxiety, crying, sleep deprivation, and the sense of living in a fog. I just wonder sometimes when I look back, if I didn’t have PPD would I have felt many of the same things?

I’ll be totally honest with you. With a lot of guilt for a lot of months, I didn’t feel like ‘it was all worth it’. You hear moms all of the time say, “It was hard but I’d do it all over again.” Or some other passionate expression of their over powering love for their children. I loved Eden. I did. But with a lot of shame inside, I felt the truth of it all, at least initially, was that I didn’t feel like those moms. I didn’t feel like ‘I’d do it all over again’ or that ‘it was all worth it’. In those months, it probably made me feel even more depressed to know that I felt that way “but shouldn’t have”. At least according to the book of what a mom is supposed to be like from the get-go.

It was bizarre. I wanted Eden. I wanted to be her mom. I just wanted someone else to care for her and let me have her back when it was time to cuddle. I guess what I was saying is that I wanted to be Eden’s grandmother. I chuckle saying that because I think this is the first time I’m realizing what I was really desiring. I felt that way because I didn’t have the strength to cope with the shock of becoming an instant 24/7 caregiver overnight. I wanted her. I loved her because she was mine but I didn’t feel like I was tough enough to take care of her. Thankfully, that changed. And actually changed fairly quickly but when you feel like I did, time crawled. Sometimes it all but stood still.

In the beginning, it’s weird because you’ve always dreamed of the moment when the doctor hands you you’re baby and says, “Here she is, mom!”. And trust me, that moment was every ounce of what I had imagined and then some. BUT, I always watched A Baby Story on TLC and I remembered how every mom was like, “It’s instant love. Love like I’ve never felt.” Etc.

I had instant love for her, no doubt, but it was a different instant love. The kind of love that you have for someone because you have responsibility for them. Love because you labored for them and sacrificed for them. Love because they are beautiful. Love because it’s your family and you made them with your husband. There was a lot of that kind of love. What I didn’t feel though is love like I had known love. I know people always say that ‘it’s a love like they’ve never experienced’ but put that fluff to the side because that’s not what I’m talking about. Love before my child was always because of a relationship. Because I knew someone and built a relationship with them full of knowing them intimately and full of memories that made me love them. I was expecting that kind of love with Eden right away. But wait….I didn’t know her! She is a little face that’s reminiscent of family but she was a stranger. I didn’t know why she cried. She didn’t smile at me. She screamed and cried at me mostly. I couldn’t really interact with her at least in a reciprocated sense because, hey, she was only 5 minutes old.

So while I loved Eden, I didn’t know her. While I loved her, there wasn’t a bond…yet. There was a maternal bond but not bonding like I previously knew it. I think I felt troubled by that but the more I talk to other moms both PPD and non-PPD moms, I hear many singing the same tune. I don’t feel like anyone ever talks about it though. I know it really is that great for some women but it can’t be for all. We moms are supposed to be these all loving and perfectly maternal beings that pop a baby out with tears in their eyes with their baby in one hand and a tray of freshly baked chocolate chip cookies in the other hand. We are the superheros of life. Literal life. Not much room left for looking at your baby with an ownership love and connection one minute and then looking across the living room the next minute thinking, “Who is that strange baby laying on the couch? Call the police! Someone left their baby at my house!!!” No one ever says that on a Baby Story. TLC should’ve had me on there. It would’ve been their most memorable episode. You could’ve been a star, TLC.

I’m telling you, both a Baby Story and Bringing Home Baby are as toxic to your expectations as Cinderella and Prince Charming to little girls learning about what to expect with a man.  No one even cries on that show except for the babies.  Give me a break.

In a non-TLC reality, I remember getting a letter from a mom who said, “It’s okay if you aren’t crazy about Mrs. E right now.” Funny, I hadn’t said I wasn’t. Again, I was but in that grandmother sort of way. I was crazy but a little crazy in the wrong the direction. I felt a bond and constant maternal desire to care for her and hold her to me but that drive mixed with anxiety and sleep deprivation was a lethal cocktail exploding in a mess of tears, panic attacks, and not knowing if it all felt worth it. It was nice to hear a normal mother of two on the other side of motherhood telling me that I was allowed to not be dancing around the crib singing praises of infants and my new parenting lifestyle.

Fast forward to a few months after that letter.

I remember when she laughed at me for the first time when she was 15 weeks old. I was holding her over my head while Lance took a picture and she giggled and my heart swelled ten times. There was healing to me in that laughter. I had been out of the fog for a while and enjoying motherhood but even after the weeks of her smiling at me, there was something extra about that laugh that really humanized her to me. I didn’t realize how much I craved that from her until she looked at me and laughed. I was desperate to hear it again because it was thrilling and THAT is what made the bond start to take off. Yes, smiling was such a reward but to have this little girl with a sense of humor that responded to things that really are only funny to a baby….it was amazing.

I can now say it was really all worth it.  The crying.  The laughing.  The screaming baths.  The pills.  The breastpumping sessions for 1/2 an ounce.  The doctors visits.  The pajamas I wore for 2 days with baby poop on them.   

I feel fearful to say I’d do it all over because just the thought of living through that experience again makes my heart beat rapidly as I type it. Still, I guess I would because I really look forward to another baby down the road and this time, I’ll have a toddler, too. Now I’m really getting cocky!

Ultimately,  what I would relive doesn’t matter because God doesn’t measure our love for our children or our devotion to them by what awful things we are willing to endure for them at our expense. Although I would endure a great many and awful things, I  no longer feel guilty that I’m not the first one to raise my hand and say, “I’ll do PPD again because I love my kid thhhhhhaaaaatttt much!”  Beat that mother’s of the world!!!!  (insert eye roll)

I love Eden. I truly, truly love her. I love her now in both ways: Because she’s mine and made of me and Lance AND because I know her. I know what makes her laugh and I’m one of the few people who can. I know which blanket she wants and what to do with her Zebra to make her smile. I know when I hear a certain sigh that she’s asleep in her car seat. I don’t even have to look.

When I see her trying to sleep in the car and the sun is shining on her squinted shut-eyes, I know I love her when I switch lanes to move the shade across her face.

I know I love her when I look for a tooth every day for weeks and then I find one and my cheeks hurt with a big smile and then my heart sort of breaks because she’s getting bigger. I know I love her because every day that passes, is one I wish I could have back. And those aren’t things that happen right when they hand you your precious wrinkly newborn and lay her on your chest. Some love is instant and some, takes time.

I may never know what it’s like to bring home a baby and experience as the “normal” version of me. I might always ask which of the things I experienced would I still have felt if I hadn’t had postpartum. But I suppose I’m no less the mother and a mother I wanted to be no matter how I got there. Maybe next time I’ll call TLC and see if they want to an 8-episode series on me called “Crazy In Love”. Pun Intended. Now THAT’S a reality show!

One of my favorite quotes is, “There are two roads in life. One is hard, and one is easy and the only reward of the easy road was that it was simple.”

I may have unwillingly taken the country back roads on a rickety old moped wearing ripped sweats pants and a cracked helmet following an incorrect map from goggle maps but, hey, I got there!  And the reward at the end was multiplied. I worked for the love that now is the clichéd love of my life………..all daddies aside.

Traumatic strawberry onesies and all, I’m so glad I made it. There is nothing…nothing as sweet as motherhood.  And in true TLC fashion, I’ve never lived or loved like this.

The laugh.

Sweet Nothings October 24, 2010

There comes a time when you become ready for things that you weren’t ready for before. For me, that time finally came when Eden was about six months and few days old. That time being, Thursday, aka tonight.

I finally decided it was time to let Eden learn how to go to sleep by doing some “sleep training”. We chose the Ferber method which is let them cry for 5 minutes, give comfort but don’t pick them up, then 10 min, comfort, then 15, comfort, and then twenty. After twenty you start back over at 5. Tonight it took exactly 22 minutes to get that cute chunky, big-eyed baby of mine asleep. Lucky, Lance was here for support because I think there is something about a mother hearing her baby cry and not responding to her that goes against nature. Every fiber of my being wants to go in there and be with her. I love comforting her. It’s what we mothers do. I love to be needed by her. Not only needed, but wanted.

Previously, I was holding her until she fell asleep because I savor those quiet moments of the end of the day where it’s all said and done and I can relax and hold my sweet girl. No more laps around the house to make.  Bottles to be mixed. Diapers to be changed.  It’s just me and her in the stillness and calm of the end of the day.  I can hold her and look at her little fuzzy head and still be excited that God gave me a baby with a hairy head. I always thought babies with hair were so cute and I thought I had no hope because no baby on either side of our family has ever had hair. After all those years of infertility, having this sweet little baby and then having even a fuzzy head is like the hairy icing on the cake. As stupid as this will sound to everyone else involved, I think God gave me those hairs.  It’s almost like that when I look at her that God just smiled at me and said, “I remembered.” I suppose hair can only be so exciting to someone who waited for years to see that one positive test stick.

If there’s anything I’ve learned about myself so far as a parent/parenting, it’s two things:

1. I’m not as strong as I thought I would be. I thought I would be able to hear her cries and have some perspective and self-control but I constantly yearn to go care for her immediately.

2. They change so fast. Not just them, but parenting them.

One week they are laying flat, the next they are sitting. One week they smack their bottle while you feed them and the  very next week it turns into a small grip and all of a sudden they are holding the bottle themselves and they don’t ‘need’ you to feed them. It really is rapid.

But parenting changes fast too. One week you are dying because they are fighting naps and you feel like you are gonna die and then for no reason, the next week that’s over and it’s on to the next one.

If you are like me, one minute you are struggling to breastfeed and dreaming of bottles even though you love to nurse your baby. You are wishing it all away: the pain, the long feedings, wrestling your baby awake, and then for me, without warning, I go to the doctor’s office for postpartum and they tell me to quit that day. I didn’t see it coming. All of the sudden, a phase I was struggling to survive but secretly loved under the turmoil, was all over. Just like that. Holding her to me and being her sole source of provision was done. And simply, another phase gone. 

This week was no exception. After many long sleepless nights due to Eden being under the weather, I finally reached the point where I thought, “It’s time to help her to sleep through the night.”

I need it.

She needs it.

We all need it.

Even the cat might appreciate it on nights she’s inside.

So even though I knew it was coming, I didn’t know I would start today. What that means was that last night was the last night that I got to hold her as she fell asleep on me. Sure, it will happen occasionally but life with my baby as I’ve known it for the past six months of this rollercoaster is changing one little bit at a time.

It all happened after being at the doctor today and he told me how to do it and that she was ready. My sister is coming in next week so I’m sure she’d appreciate the quiet and the process takes five days which was enough time to do before she comes in so we started.   Just like that, all of a sudden, that little sweet phase I enjoyed is over for the most part.

I think it’s so hard as moms to not be looking forward to the next milestone that eases our load or one that gives us more freedom but we are quick to forget that these little times with our babies are so fleeting and you realize that each time you lose a little thing you savored about that stage. Maybe it was a sound they made that makes you laugh that they just quit doing or a way you made them laugh that you enjoyed together that they seem to not care about anymore. It’s the little sweet nothings that season your days with your child.

I’ve been so tired lately that it’s been easy to forget that she won’t always call out for me or need or want to be cuddled. Even the sleepless hard times are irretrievable and even in the difficulties of watching the hours tick away every night, there’s something precious there. There are the moments where it’s late at night and your eyes are heavy and you run to their cry and hold them to your chest. You yawn and look down and those huge sweet eyes are staring at you, hinting at the smile behind that passy. This parenting thing is hard and exhausting but I don’t know if you can find a sweeter earthly joy.

Tonight before we put Eden down to start letting her cry some, Lance and I held her and said a prayer for my strength to get through it and for Eden’s to survive and learn quickly to sleep. I took a big breath to prepare myself and I held her to me for one quick second by her crib. I wanted so badly to just hold her and watch her drift off peacefully but I knew it was time for it to be different for us both.

I felt a wave of sympathy for what she was about to experience rise up inside of me and then the rush of maternal love and compassion that followed.

I layed her down and put my hand on her chest and felt a motherly weakness and some tears begin to well up inside of me. I kissed her face. Gave her the passy and her favorite ruffled blanket that she likes to rub on her face and squeeze with her hands.  Patted her tender fuzzy head and left the room.

It was bittersweet for me albeit a good reminder that all things are fleeting and that all things must be cherished even through the exhaustion.  It’s almost like I dream of the day’s end when I’m really tired but that I’m simultaneously not wanting the time to pass because it’s one more day gone with my baby and one more day she ages.  It’s almost like I know she is growing so quickly that I miss her while I have her.  I want to see her grow, but I want to hold on to today’s baby as I know her because that’s who I’m head over heels in love with.  Parenthood is a fulfilling tug of war between trying to stand in the sweetness of the moment and trying herd your surge of excitement as it’s on to the next big event: first christmas, walking, crawling, first word….

I bet when her gummy smile goes toothy and her hair grows long that she’ll turn into the most beautiful young lady.  I know she’ll be funny and make people laugh.  She’ll be kind.  Talented.  Compassionate.  Genuine.  Sincere. 

Eden will be so many great things.  Soon enough.

I look forward to many things but for now, the thrill will be finally holding her to me in the morning and savoring that she’s still my tiny, precious baby.  At least for today.

Eden and I Dance: Part 2 October 7, 2010

I am offering a new service called: How to teach your baby to dance and be cultural and supreme above all babies. I wanted this video to show my extreme versatility. I added captions so that you won’t overlook some of my different styles. You may need to watch it several times to see it all. I know you’ll want me to teach your baby the first watch though. In just one lesson, I can have your baby doing the moonwalk for one simple payment of 50.00. Eight times.

Try not to get lost in the intricate detailing. You can get overwhelmed if you take my talent as a whole.

This would be a great Christmas present.

Think it over.

PS- Make sure the captions are on.

PPS- You’ll want to watch this big screen time so click on the icon on the bottom right of the video that has 4 little arrows going in different directions.  This way you can see the said detailing and captions.  However, if it’s jerky than you should watch the regular size one. Enjoy and your welcome.

Me, Myself, and Hallelujah October 6, 2010

Lance left me all alone with Eden for approximately three days. I hated to see him go because I like the guy but also, he’s helpful to have around. When it nears 5 pm everyday, I wait for him (sometimes in the driveway) like a little kid waiting for the ice cream truck. I pass Eden off like the baton in one of those relay races that active people run in.

Sometimes the days are so long. Even if she’s dang cute. Even if she’s gallons fun. We all need a break. Just like Oprah says, “Being a good stay-at-home mom is the hardest job in the world.”  Oprah, guys.  This is serious. 

She’s right. 

Of course.  (That just made my husband gag. He’s not exactly a “big fan”.  Not exactly going to be screaming in the crowd during Oprah’s Favorite Things. That one was for you, Lancer. )

Anyways, back to how amazing us moms are….

I’m in a perpetual state of awe of four types of women:

1-Women with lots of kids such as 2.
2- Single moms. Can I get a holler for these ladies?!
3- Teen moms. Can I get a fist pump and a prom dress, stat?!!!
4- Women with crappy husbands or dead-beat boyfriends. Can I get a whoot whoot and a babysitter, please?!!!!

Motherhood is some hard biz-nassssss.

You know what’s so weird though? Even though I ice cream truck my husband and even though the days are non-stop work….there is something about being at home without a husband that is nice, too. Sorry Lance. It’s not personal.

I almost feel like it’s a little vacation. Like the kind where you don’t really have breaks but still, it’s like a tiny holiday as the Brits would say.

I think the reason I feel that way is because for however long I want, I can be all alone after she’s in bed. I’m never really alone anymore. Even on lonely stay-at-home mom days, there’s a difference to this kind of alone. I guess even when you want to be with your husband, after a long day there’s this pressure to still make sure you hurry up with your shower so you can spend time together etc.. It’s a great deadline but whatever happened to no deadlines? You know, when time is yours to squander? Sometimes that’s just nice. You really don’t know how much time you had until you have a baby. And I only have one human! I’m sure I don’t know how much time I have now…she says while writing a blog. I suppose two kids will teach me that lesson.

Even if I don’t have time, I will say though that I feel so accomplished  and fulfilled at the end of the day. Let me rephrase that, sometimes it’s at the end of the week. Occasionally, at the end of the day I’m too tired for productive gold medals to be awarded.

I just feel like a total woman now. Sometimes I will look at pictures of myself since I’ve had Eden and I think, “You don’t even look like your vagina is hurting in that picture!” Just kidding I don’t do that.

I think,”You had a baby! You gave birth! You are a mom and you are such a woman!!!!!!!!!!”

I’ve never had more respect for myself or my body.

My life has changed so much now that I wake-up all day (and all night) and I’m just a mom. 24/7, 365…a mom. I don’t even think about it most of the time. It’s amazing the things we women do and can handle from day-to-day. I’m such in a new life and a new mode that I often think that if I remembered what it was like to not be a mom, I’d be so impressed with how much I do now. How I work on little sleep and keep going, and going, and going…. The old me is proud of the new me, I’m sure. Again though, I don’t think you realize how much you do as a mom because it just becomes your new normal and you love it.

It’s a whole lot of what I thought it would be but, at times, way more than I bargained for but I think it’s always that for every mom. Motherhood is a gorgeous shock to your system.

When I was in high school, I got ready every day like I was going to the club. When I was in college, I started dressing more comfortably and cute on the weekends. Today, I wore the same pajamas I woke up in and didn’t touch my face, hair, or dare I say, teeth til after Oprah. That’s 5 pm my time folks.

It’s very different.

It’s also very awesomer-ish.

I ended tonight with a huge baby barf all over me, the couch, the carpet, her jammies, her face, eyes, and hair. First, I took some pictures and mass texted them out. Then, I cleaned it up. Put her to bed. And now I sit under the glow of my neighbors purple, orange, and black inflatable spider that’s on their roof and type a blog. I’m not really under it but it’s shining through the windows. And plus, I can’t be under it because there’s a one story spider web that reaches from the roof to their yard. Obviously.

I just ate stupid double-stuffed Oreos that I loathe. I’m wearing a new pair of pajama pants. I know…fancy. They are maternity though so not fancy. Medium fancy.

The house is quiet. And I’m alone on my little vacation. No one needs me.  No one to help.  No one to cater to.  No one making noise.  No diapers.  No barf.  No bibs.  No arguments over who needs to go let Skittles out.  No one to snore during the times of night that Eden isn’t crying.  Just me and silence.  Just me and more me again. There is so much me that I keep bumping into myself.   Hello, old friend.

Inhale.

Carefree, slow exhale. Ahhhhhhhhhhhhh.

My house sure is nice this time of year.

Beetle Juice September 23, 2010

I woke up this morning to a text from my friend saying that Similac formula had been recalled. Rats. That’s the only brand Eden can use. This reminded me that this can’t happen with breast milk which made me start my day with a discontented grunting sound.

She explained to me how it was contaminated and I said, “Now, how do you get needles in baby formula, anyways?”

She said, “Not needles….BEETLES.”

Oh now that’s very different. I can handle beetle milk. But then I suppose it depends on the beetle. If it’s a roach, then that’s disgusting, but a few beautiful June Bugs never hurt anyone. Just imagine the gorgeous iridescent shades of her excrement. Radiant turquoise and emerald-green. Now that’s a recall!

Then I later heard that they found larvae in it too. That’s more like it. That’s more the disgusting, shocking news I was expecting to hear originally. Actually, I thought it was going to be much worse like a chemical or something that had gotten into the cans. Again, I can handle a beetle or two, although, it’s not desired.

We actually eat bugs in everything we eat anyways. The FDA has a limit to how many bug particles can be in our cereals, etc. How do I know this? I took a nutrition class in college and the professor had us do lame presentations with posters and everything and we were supposed to talk about some sort of nutritional study or research. I wasn’t about to pull out my 4th grade food pyramid project so I asked if I could do my own special idea which was a report about eating bugs and the benefit of doing that.

All the students would get up and be like, “The effects of eating less sugar is blah, blah, blah…..

“The olean in chips that prevent fat absorption does a yah-dah, yah-dah bing bang…..”

Then I got up and pulled out my grasshopper poster like Napoleon Dynamite and was like,

“Did you know that there are 5 grams of protein in the common grasshopper? Did you know a liger is my favorite animal bred for it’s skills and magic?” You know, something like that……

So the point of the tale is, a few ladybugs in my stew never hurt me so what will it do to my baby? It might actually be a nutritious line of baby powder. All of you snobby breastfeeders out there, probably just barfed and shook your instruments of jealousy in my face. You all high and mighty with milky, milks with a bouncy-bounce here and a drippy, drip there….

Well this just in…there’s been a recall on your breasts, losers!

Your milk has caterpillars in it.

You disgust me.

How to Survive a Newborn like I Kind-Of Did September 12, 2010

When you are a new mom everyone has advice. Sometimes you say, “Why that’s fantastic advice!” Other times you just nod and hope they don’t ask you if you did it later.

Since I am the recent somewhat survivor of a newborn, I figured I should post what I shall call

Rebecca’s Most Fabulous Survivor Guide Advice Encyclopedia Extravaganza of Living with a Newborn Jubilee:

First Step:

You betta get out of my room, son

This is an easy one to remember because it means get your baby out of your room.  Eden lived by our bed for approximately 2 weeks 10 minutes and 5.8 seconds.  Some people love having their babies in their room and, in some ways, it’s convenient.  In some ways you want to roll off your bed and hit your head on something hard so you can black out and be alone for a second.  Mmmmm, peaceful serenity. 

Eden’s pack and play was right up against our bed which means, hey, I can get you fast.  It also means, hey, I hear every grunt and snort and I’m awake all night long like a solider on high alert. 

I’d go into my room BAM….baby crap everywhere and in a way, that’s literal.  Diaper volcanos, passies, boob feeding paraphenelia….there was no escaping.  Every room in the house was drowning in babies I tell you!

One of the best things we did for ourselves was get our one little space back to ourselves.  It gave us some normalcy and big fat fantastic deep breath.  You need something of your own since not even your boobs are at the moment.  It made me less anxious too not having to hear or rather “listen” for her every breath.  So when you feel ready, kick your baby to her crib and say, “This room is mine!  Bwah hahahahahahaha!”  That’s what monitors are for.

Step 2:

I always feel like someone is watching me….mom

That’s clever of me  because this step involves monitoring your baby but, may I suggest the beauty which is a video monitor?  I think everyone needs a video monitor.  If you are a high-strung Type-A-er then it’s not an option for you.  If you are being anxious with your baby…again…not an option.  Plus, eyes in the back of your head are ugly.  Cameras look better.

At night when you feel like you need to check on your baby constantly, why get up when you can just roll over and see your baby?  I don’t disturb my baby. I don’t disturb me.  I could stay up all night worrying about if a blanket is on her face, was that a baby cry or am I hearing things, or is my bob cat breaking into her room? All common fears.   All I have to do is look and see if she’s sound asleep or rolling around.  I can take it outside with me and still see and hear her.  I can buy more than one camera for multiple rooms for when I have other babies.  I can use them when they are toddlers and I can put one in their dorm rooms one day and watch them from home.  Hopefully.

These little hand held TV guys have saved my legs from needless trips, my mind from worrying thoughts, and kept me sane in the membrane.  Video monitors…..they aren’t just for babies.  They’re for you.   Now that’s goooooooodddd.

Step 3:

I Run This Place, Fool

You are momma.  Hear yourself cry at night because you are so tired roar!!!!!    You and only you know what you are comfortable with doing and trying with your new baby.  If you don’t want to let your baby cry, then don’t.  If you want to name your baby Sir Charles Soggybottoms, then I would be honored to meet his majesty.  If you want to rock your baby to sleep every night, then get to swayin’. If you like to breastfeed, do it.  If you can’t and use formula, tell me so I’ll feel better about myself. 

You will hear tons of advice and it will all be different and people will feel really strong about what worked for them but YOU know your baby and what you feel like you can do.  Every baby is different and every mom and family is too so like the great rappers say, “do you, player…do you”.

When I was pregnant, I heard BabyWise enough times to make me want to make everyone unwise with a concussion.  For me, my baby is unwise.  For you, you may like a wiser baby but I chose a different method for getting my baby to sleep.  I’d rather hold my baby before she goes to bed at night because I cherish those fleeting moments.  Those times are special to me.  So I did me.  I can’t let my baby cry for too terribly long which is funny because I could let other people’s baby cry…..mmmmmm….interesting.  Anyhow, we do what works for us.  Don’t feel guilty.  There isn’t a wrong way.  No way is better than your own.  Unless someone else’s way is not letting their baby play with plastic bags or knives or something.  In that case, their way is best.

Step 4:

I can give you more.  (Just kidding that’s Step 4 in New Kids on the Block Step-by-Step song)

Mister Sandman, Will you accept my rose? 

I say sleep like you may never sleep again.  I say that because, it’s true.  And I’m not talking about the advice people give you pre-baby when they say, “Sleep now because you won’t later!”  As if you can stock pile sleep by doing that but ANYWAYS, I mean sleep as much as you can when you have your baby.  I had a hard time with this namely because I went to PostPartum paradise and I was so anxious that I couldn’t sleep and would have panic attacks if I did fall asleep like 30 minutes into my nap BUT if I could’ve slept I bet that would’ve been smart.

Of all the advice out there about brining home your first baby, ‘sleep when they sleep’ is the best advice to me.  My sister told me, “Take a nap whenever you can because you never know what the night will bring.”  Truer words have never been said.  Eden is five months old and just a few days ago she laid down for a nap and, even though I didn’t feel like I had to have one, I laid down anyways and we slept for 3 hours.  Fast forward to that night, she was an out of the blue teething terror and I only got 3-4 hours of sleep that night.  That nap I could’ve skipped saved me at least 1 Xanax. =0)

Although it’s hard for me, let the cleaning go when you can, turn the phone off, close the curtains, and snooze it out, G.  You can’t clean, be a good mom, a good wife, worker, or whatever you are if you don’t sleep.  You can’t even be good for yourself.  If you choose to wear PJs well into the day,  this is good for comfort and you are also ready for a shut-eye at a moment’s notice.  Let not a second be wasted! 

Step 5:

Don’t you know that your time has arrived (It’s those ole’ rascally New Kids again.)

Yes, Please, Thank you, My Dear aka Here’s My Baby See Ya Later

People, if you are lucky enough, are going to help in some sort of way.  Examples:  Let me bring you dinner.  Let me clean your house.  Let me give you company.  Let me buy you a gift.  Let me babysit while you nap.  Let me take your baby. Or my favorite, “Don’t write me a thank you letter.”  When people tell me that I’m like well okay then, sister.  There is a sweet old lady who made a blanket who told me that and she is still not waiting for a thank you and I’m still glad it was one less thing to do.  We are both winners.

The answer is YES to any help offered!  This is actually hard to do for a lot of people including myself but TAKE IT.  When your baby is 6 months old you will have no free dinners, no gifts, and possibly, fewer people to watch your baby.  Do it now!  It’s like baby Christmas and everyone is your Santa Claus.  Don’t get on the naughty list.  As long as it’s reasonable and you feel comfy with it, be a YES man.  I couldn’t believe how helpful help was.  It was helpable. 

Step 6:

And now for my disappearing act….

Can you see me cause I’m disappearing right now like abracadabra.  In this step you will be instructed to disappear and have time to yourself on a daily basis.  Maybe you feel like getting out of the house for a date or just a quick errand. Maybe you feel like knitting an eye-catching parka.  If you are like me, walks and showers were all about me.  I have never enjoyed my 15 minute shower to myself more in my entire life. I mean splish-splash I was taking a bath. Getting some time alone or with your spouse away from baby is a non-negotiable.  It is top two along with sleep in baby survival jubilee. 

Step 7:

Daddies Don’t Have Boobies, They Have Legs and Hands

Daddies are made for helping and that’s just what they’ll do.  One of these days these daddies are gonna help all over you.  Enlist the services of your husband or baby daddy in any way you can.  They are equal parents, even if you carry the milky goods.  Work the pants off of them.  Hopefully, you don’t have to ask.  If you don’t have a husband, or I suppose even if you do, build up a support system of friends, moms, buddies, whoever.  You will need whoever you can get.  Start with your spouse if you have one though because are right there with you and they are good for bottle making, feet rubbing, diaper changing, tear wiping, errand running, baby bouncing, baby walking, movie getting, taking the baby so you can nap kind of guys.  If they aren’t, kick them swiftly in the groin and call a woman whose pushed out a baby before. 

Step 8:

All Good Hamsters Come to an End

You will feel like a hamster on a wheel for a little bit.  Yes, it’s the same routine every two to three hours day and night and time slips into time and you are just sleep dazed going through the motions.  Encouraged yet?  The good news is…hamsters die really fast.  That’s good news unless you were my hamster that met his demish in the toilet…RIP, Sugar.  Sugar like his name not sugar like a term of endearment.

I remember when I was losing my mind with Eden…you know way back a few months ago….and people kept telling me it would get better.  It’s SO hard to believe.  Why would it get better?  You do the same thing and the baby needs the same thing so what’s gonna be different?  Then they tell you the first 4-8 weeks are the hardest and then you want to run  into your yard and build a large help sign out of rocks so maybe a helicopter will see you and swoop down  and take you away.  During the rough time, 4-8 weeks sounds like you just said 15-20 years.  You think,”I can’t do this one more night muchless weeks!”  But it does change.  It changes without warning and that’s what you have to remember when it logically seems like it won’t.  They change quickly.  One night for no reason at all they will sleep for 5-6 hours instead of 3…even though you couldn’t see it coming.  Your day or week can change with one helpful friend or a really restoring nap that helps you get through the next day and so on… 

For example, I’ve been super tired with Eden because she quit sleeping through the night a few months ago but for no rhyme or reason this week, she dropped all her night feedings.  SO sleepless friends, even when there’s no reason to think it will change, it will.  Just remember, you are a hamster and hamsters kill over in no time.

Step 9:

Ignore steps 1-9 if you don’t like them.  Ain’t nobody that can throw it down like you.

Babyologist July 18, 2010

When Eden was about a week old, my mom came to save the day/my life and keep her overnight while Lance and I slept. Getting in bed to sleep never looked so delicious as that first break from the shock known as newborns.

Before I went to bed for the night, I gave my mom the rundown on how to care for this little creature I had known for practically five seconds.

“She doesn’t like to have her arms trapped so wrap her up this way.”

“This is her favorite passy.”

“Don’t lay her down fully awake. Just hold her for a second and she’ll be good to go.”

My mom laughed and said, “Isn’t it crazy that just a matter of days ago you didn’t know any of this stuff and then it all just naturally comes.”

It really is amazing. SO much has changed.

My days.

My nights.

My shopping trips.

My thighs.

Definitely my boobs. By the second or third child I think they will just go inverted.

Other things have changed like how fast I can get ready and how fast I can eat. Those are two things you don’t get to do leisurely anymore. I can eat a buffet and put on mascara in 20 seconds flat. That’s how we do, player.

Things have changed about how I feel about her. I feel more and more bonded with her day by day. She likes to just stare at me now and trace my face with her eyes. Sometimes it freaks me out because she’ll be really silent and I’ll think she’s asleep and then I look over and she’s staring at my all creepy like a possessed baby in a horror film. It’s like she’s thinking, “I’m gonna memorize you so I’ll know if the right person is holding me when I’m crying.”

My favorite time with her is right after her bath where she’s soaking wet from the top of her tiny head down to her cute lumpy bottom and she just makes these tiny sweet sounds and peeks out up at me from the towel she’s wrapped in.  I also the daily routine of picking her nose.  I don’t like it when other people, say Daddy for example, pick their nose but I find I fancy picking hers.  It gives you a real satisfied clean feeling like you just cleaned your whole house down to the cracks in the countertops. Her nose would be the cracks in the counters in this example.  Sure you wash her booty but when you get her clean down to the nostrils then you’ve really done it.   MMMMMMMM….I love.   I guess while on this topic I should tell you that I’ve mastered booger retrieval.  Some may think this sounds dangerous but hey, I’m no pediatrician.  I’m just a simple booger catcher. 

Let’s be honest.  If you use the suction thing, your baby probably hates it and it doesn’t get the job done unless your baby has mucous up in those regions.  SO one day I looked at my bobby pin and I thought:

fits up the nose…

a little loop is on the end that I can fashion into a booger hook….

Yes, yes by George I’ve got it.

Do it only if your baby is really still.  I take no responsibility if you stab your baby in the sinuses.  This technique is only for close range/visible boogers.  I’m telling you though it’s like a booger fishing pole.  Works every time.  Your welcome.  If you mess this up and hurt your baby, you should probably go ahead and punch yourself in the face.

See, since I’ve had a baby I’ve become a professional at all mommy things.  I’m a whole new woman! 

I’m a new and improved me.  If you need any pointers, let me know.  And if you need any Xanax, let me know that too.  I’m a jack of all trades these days.  Drug dealer, snot grabber, speed getting ready-er, competitive race eater. I’m basically a scholar.  The end.

Warning: If you find yourself a druggie and want to come to my house to steal my Xanax, you will be painfully disappointed.  I take such a little dose that you’d probably get higher from Smarties and I only have a few pills left anyways so get over yourself.  Thank you for your respect and cooperation in not breaking in my home and aiding in keeping momma sane.  And if you still aren’t detoured…I have a bob cat.  Cats are silly you say?  He needs to wear a dog collar because his neck and jaws are so big.  He also has fangs.  You already know you don’t want a wild cat in your pants. ESPECIALLY your pants.

ROARRRRRRRRRRRRRRR

Similac vs. Saggies June 14, 2010

In attempt to comfort myself from no longer being able to breastfeed, I have compiled a list of personally scientific data to make me feel better. If you are a breastfeeder, don’t be swayed by this fiercsome list I’ve complied. Your milk fountains are supreme-0. And to all of you bottle bangers, don’t get your Enfamil in a wad. You don’t have to feel bad for not breastfeeding. It’s fine and I do it. I’m just trying to grieve the loss of milkier days.

I present to you….the top 10 advantages of Similac over Saggies (both of which I have).  Similac in cans, saggies in my shirt.

1. No more nursing covers which are tangly, saunas for both you and your baby. Would it be too much to ask for a little vents somewhere? Those things are large cloaks of pains in the behind. I’ll save mine for when she’s bigger and we’ll use it like those big parachutes you play with in gym class in elementary school. You know what I’m talking about. You loved those things. Especially when you all got to sit inside of it.

2. No knotty, large, engorged, drippy, milking tools hanging off your chest. No pain, just bottles. Bottles and bottles, all the day.

2.  I’m gonna do another number 2 because I only want this list to be of ten.  Don’t argue with me.  I run this place.

Breastfeeding takes 30 minutes.  I can feed this darling in 7-10 minutes flat like she’s some sort of competive baby eater. 

3. You don’t have to have an arsenal of nursing goods: no nursing pads, shields, creams, bras, tanks, or pumps.

4. No more hooking up to a pump like an ole’ farm raised dairy cow all to look down and say, “ONLY ONE OUNCE!  Well, hee-haw that was worth my 14 thousands hours attached to these things.)

5. Hey, even if you don’t have milk in them, doesn’t mean you can’t have your cake and eat it too. Every now and then just let your baby latch on for old times sake. You still have your contraptions. It may be weird for you both but there’s a price to reminiscing.

Anyone who would do that briefly on two occasions would be a total weirdo….

6. When you bottle feed, no one can get out of helping you. No more “I don’t have any boobs” excuses! Guess what, suckers! I don’t either. Not useful ones, anyways, so here’s your bottle. Ha ha! Victorious! And also, more rested because your hubby can do it to it!

7. On the for serious, without formula, people couldn’t adopt babies because they’d have no way to feed them. Two cheers for formula making adoption of babies from here and all over the world possible!

8. Breastfeeding is free and formula costs…wait a second this is going in the wrong direction.

9. How else are you gonna give your baby a real thick milk mustache?

10. I can feed my baby anywhere, anytime, and leave my baby with anyone at anytime without hours pumping. I can feed my baby in a box, I can feed my baby on a rock, I can squirt her bottle in her hair, this momma can feed her baby at the county fair.  You thought I would say ‘anywhere’ but that would be redundant given I can feed her on rocks and in boxes.

(So can breastfed babies but then sometimes you are just innocently walking around an aisle in Babies R’ Us and bump into a lady free flying while her baby dines. It feels a little different from running into someone with a bottle. I’m just assuming because I’ve never seen two women feeding their babies without cloaks like they were tribal and in their native grasslands.)