Goodbyes' Suck

Back in the day, and by that I mean a year ago, K would scream and cry for me when I would drop him off at daycare. It tore at my heart. It also made me long for the days where he would no longer be suffering through separation anxiety. I hated seeing him go through that and I hated having to leave him so I could go to work. Mom guilt at its finest, I tell ya'.

I never wanted him to be okay with me leaving him, but I wanted the anxiety to be over. And it is. He is a very independent 2 year old now, and his longing for mom to stick around a little longer is fading. It is being replaced with the interest in other kids at daycare, the fun crafts he is going to make, and the knowing that he will have a fun day and be well taken care of. And all of that makes me happy and makes me feel better about his day while I am gone. But...

Now instead of trying to extricate myself from surprisingly strong little hands and of cries of "Mom! Mom!", he happily joins in on the fun whilst I easily leave and walk to my car... head hung low just wishing he would yell for his mama one last time. And in case you are wondering, no I do not want my son to cry uncontrollably and experience anxiety. I just selfishly crave the verbal affirmation that he needs me.

Because he is growing up. He is 2!! Seriously, what am I going to do when he gets his driver's license and a car, or goes off to college? I'm not exactly sure what I may do but if you know me this is what YOU should do...lock me up :) Because I just might lose it!

You know you're a...

I thought this would be a fun list. And I am sure the majority of you will relate. I call it "You know you're a mom/ grown-up when...".

Let's get started, shall we?

You know you're a mom/ grown-up when...

1. You get excited to see a parenting magazine in the mail instead of the latest Cosmo.

2. The only bottle you are willing and able to pass around is full of formula.

3. You used to be able to go for days on just a few hours sleep. Now you need days worth of sleep to make it a few hours.

4. A sloppy, drool kiss from a boy makes your day instead of ruins it.

5. Saturday nights are spent at home playing peek-a-boo instead of going out to meet-a-boo.

6. No matter how much you try to avoid mom hair, you look in a mirror a week later and realize things haven't changed, moved, or been brushed.

7. When you hear a crying baby you run towards it, not away from it.

8. Diaper commercials make you tear up. I do feel pretty, oh, so pretty. (This commercial makes me think of Kendrick when he wakes up in the morning. He grins huge!)

9. and lastly, you feel no shame in going to bed before 9 p.m.

Feel free to add yours to list! I appreciate humor :)

Happy Birthday to Me?

     Well, it finally happened to me. I turned 30 years old yesterday. I tried avoiding it but the universe didn't get my memo. Oh well.

     Looking back on this last year I am amazed, proud, blown away. I thought I would be horribly sad to be leaving my twenties. Does it suck? Yeah. But not too bad.

     During my last year in my twenties I had my little munchkin. My mom was 29 when she had me. It is a pretty awesome way to go out. I was born at 4:46 a.m. on May 29. (I am beginning to think the number 29 may have some significance). At 4:46 on the morning of my birthday, I was feeding my son. Ironic, huh? I finally started chasing my dream of going to college. Which is going great so far! And I am creating a home life that I have always wanted. See why it is so hard to let go of being 29?

     These last thirty years have been fun, exhausting, strengthening, and all together amazing. Looking at Kendrick, I often wonder how I got as far as I did without him. Or anyone in my life for that matter. I know I wouldn't make it now knowing what I have, and would be without.

     So I look forward to these next thirty years. They will be full of love, anticipation, excitement, and probably a fair share of annoyance from Nick! I can say that because he doesn't read these posts. I kid, but seriously.

     Thank you to everyone for the beautiful birthday wishes, your unrelenting support, and begrudgingly admitted love ;)

Awwwww, baby vomit!!

     Once in a while I like to do a recap on where I am in this significant journey we call mommy hood. I was thinking about how much my life has changed, how much my perspective has changed, and how gross babies really are...unless they are yours. Then boogers are cute.

     I gave up on sleep, and doing my hair. Make up on my face is a long lost dream. I had been trying to paint my toes for two weeks. Finally got that done. How bad is it that I felt a huge sense of accomplishment once the paint dried...on my toes, and carpet, and crib skirt? If you knew to look for it, you would see a pink trail from my living room couch into my son's room. So much for that nap.

Here are some more of my favorite things so far:

1. I laugh at throw up. And myself. And me covered in throw up. Because of this I have a burp cloth in every nook and cranny in the house. We were having a snuggle fest about two months back. While laying in the middle of our king-size bed, I was on my back with Kendrick on me tummy to tummy. He likes this because he can drool on my face better. We were playing and laughing, and he burped in my face. We chuckled.
     He then proceeded to throw up all over my chest. I was in a tank top. And I couldn't help but laugh when the most glorious grin spread across his face and he started laughing so hard he was shaking my stomach. So I found myself in a predicament- middle of the bed, on my back covered in throw up, gross baby, and nothing to clean him or me up with.
     I gingerly roll him off of me, let him lay there and laugh. I began the slow, agonizing journey of scooting toward the edge of the bed...on my back. Out of the corner of my eye, I see a laundry basket full of clothes sitting next to my wall. Eureka!! I get close to the edge, stick out my foot, and snag a tank top with my toes. I figured I came this far, why not make it fancy and flip the tank top up to the bed and catch it! Success. I managed to clean up the mess without getting any on the bed. Ninja-mom skills.

2. Silly me! The butter doesn't go in the dishwasher. You do funny things when you are tired. Or beyond tired. Or in a zombie state of sleep deprivation. I am usually sharp. On top of my game. Not so much anymore.
     Nick usually makes the coffee in the morning because he starts work sooner. One morning I was up making a bottle, and being the semi-awesome girlfriend that I am, chose to make the coffee so he could lay in bed a few extra minutes. Got it all together; all that was left was adding the coffee grounds. So naturally I grabbed the formula and started scooping it in. Mmm.
     While cleaning the kitchen, I have put the toaster in the refrigerator and the butter in the dishwasher. Yup. I think Nick looks forward to hearing me start cracking up randomly because he knows he is about to hear something good!

3. Mom brain. There is no cure. But it is a great excuse. Don't really have to explain this one. Mom brain is a convenient thing if you have done something stupid or forgetful and need to displace blame.

4. No matter how crappy a day or week has been, I have my boys and they have me. Sometimes, I even get flowers out of the deal. Kendrick went flower shopping with Grandma B. He waited until they were in the car to pick mine out. And by that I mean, he reached over to the planter on the seat next to him and disembodied some petunias on the trip home :) Luckily, Dad got me roses too because that poor petunia didn't last very long!

You're sucking the fun out of it!

     Whatever happened to letting kids be kids?
   
      I am a competitive person by nature, but when an extra-curricular activity or interest starts feeling like a job, then you are doing it wrong; or teaching it wrong. It's different if a child wants to try out for a sport, band, or school play. Practice, practice, practice! But, constructively criticize instead of picking them apart.

     I say this because just recently I took my nephew to his swim class. It was the third class in the series. I sat next to a mom and her dad. She had a child in the same level of the class as my nephew. During the entire 30 minute class they did nothing but pick apart the efforts of her kid. Apparently after your third class you should have the ability to out swim Michael Phelps, have perfect form, and be able to hold your breath for 5 minutes at a time. So after 30 minutes of picking this child apart, they said "Good job, buddy! It was perfect!" and that was all. They moved on to dinner plans. I roll my eyes.

     First off, unclench. You can't expect that much out of a 9 year old kid after his third class. It's ridiculous. Parents are often the reason a child gives up on something that started out as fun, and new to learn.

     Secondly, don't lie to the kid. What is he learning? They had no problem criticizing him when he was out of earshot, but when it came time to do it constructively they had nothing to say. The lesson doesn't stop when he gets out of the pool.

     And lastly, yes I am judging them. I didn't hide my side eye look from them either. Frankly, I don't care. I'm sure my parenting style will be judged constantly. But I will not be the reason my child gives up on something he was excited about or interested in.

    

And It Begins

My baby is becoming an independent person. I knew it was going to start happening, but I was not prepared for it to be so soon.

Kendrick has been sleeping in his bassinet in our room since he was born. We were obviously aware that this could not be a long term thing. Since the risk of SIDS gets drastically lowered at six months, I figured we could make the full transition then. And it would give me time to mentally prepare. A couple of months ago we started putting him in his crib for naps to get him used to his room, but had yet to put him in there overnight.

He had other plans last night. At 7 p.m. he passed out. It is not unusual. He tends to take a 20 minute nap around that time, then will go down for the night no later than 9:30 p.m. So I put him in his crib for the usual nap time. Five hours later he is still sleeping.

I am not. It was weird. My baby boy was sleeping soundly in his own room. While I loved that he was sleeping so amazing, I wanted to be selfish, grab him up and bring him into our room. He woke up around 12:30 a.m., got a diaper change, and a bottle. I got snuggles and formula all over me. Not going to lie. I got teary eyed. I had missed him. From the time I got home from work to when he fell asleep, it was only an hour and a half. That is not enough for me to spend with him after being away all day.

So he falls back asleep. I had a choice to make. Bassinet or crib? I gathered him up, got some extra snuggles, and carried my sleeping boy to his crib. While I didn't like it at first, I know it was the right decision. There will be times where I am going to have to let him do his own thing. And while it was just another sleepy night for him it was a pivotal moment for me. Even moms take baby steps.

Although, in four years I am going to be a wreck when he goes to school. A teaching certificate may be in order for me ;)

You Have Poked the Mama Bear

And she is pissed.

A lovely lady in my mom group shared this little morsel of a blog post published on fwtx.com. Fort Worth, Texas: The City's Magazine apparently doesn't care about their reputation. I do not want to generate readership for them by posting a link in my blog, but I also don't want to infringe on publishing rights. So with a big "Screw you Molly Forthright!!" (the author of said blog), here is the link:

http://fwtx.com/blogs/fwvoice/distracting-behavior

If you take the time to read this posted link, awesome! If not, here is a quick recap. The author of the blog, who apparently has zero sensibility, is answering a Q&A concerning a mom who began breastfeeding while in church and the woman behind her was distracted from the sermon. The person that wrote in, who was distracted, wanted to know what the proper etiquette was for distracting behavior in church?

The author proceeds to answer with ICK!! Really? REALLY? Mind you the author is a mom herself. She makes it sound like the mom was walking around with her business hanging out for the world to see. How can somebody be so clueless? Here is some etiquette, reader: How about you stop staring at a woman trying to feed her child? How about you take some responsibility for not listening to the sermon? Don't blame your lack of effort to listen to the Pastor on a woman doing the right thing and taking care of her kid! Is she supposed to let her child starve? And don't even suggest she go to the bathroom. Do you eat your meals while sitting on the toilet? No? I didn't think so.

Successfully breastfeeding a baby is hard work. It takes dedication, determination and a very strong willed woman to overcome the hurdles that some face trying to give their baby the best their is to offer. And now Miss Forthright wants to compare that to clipping nails and eating tuna sandwiches in someone's face. I roll my eyes and curse her stupidity. Thanks for setting us back decades.

Women are pressured enough and side eyed as it is when it comes to the way they choose to feed their baby. I seriously hope the magazine thinks twice before they publish something so condescending.

Good for her. She got people to read her blog. Maybe now she will educate herself about the liberties that mom's have when it comes to feeding their baby in public.

I Am My Mother

The phrase "I will never be like you" is probably the most uttered during adolescent years. I know I have said it. I'm sure you have, too. What is so horrible about being like our parents? If you were blessed, like me, you were given great parents, a loving home, and just enough dysfunction to give you a sense of humor. So why did I say those words? Ignorance. 

There are two things in life that will make you look back on those years full of raging, teenage hormones and make you shake your head: Maturity and having your own child. One or the other will do the trick, but if you experience both you might as well add a head scratch to that shake. 

My 4.5 month old son has a new game and the rules consist of this: he pretends to cry and I have to give him attention and call him a cry baby. The prize is I get to hear his amazing laugh. Until I look away. Then the game starts over. The other day we were playing this very complicated game when I jokingly said, "I will give you something to cry about." I had to catch myself from looking around the room for my mom. That got me thinking of other similarities we have. We cry when we laugh, and we both hate grocery shopping with a passion. We put our families first and there is nothing we wouldn't do for them. 

Being like my mother isn't so bad. Just stop me when I start snorting when I laugh.

I Will Practice What I Preach

I have always been a dreamer. I like to stretch my imagination. Not to sound pompous, but I was blessed with a brain. I had goals and plans for my life. After high school, I was going to go to college. I didn't. I had no idea what I wanted to be when I "grew up" and it became a decade long excuse, among others.  I don't know what happened, but I got off track. Or did I? Maybe the concrete road to success was too smooth for me. Maybe,  I am more of a pot hole, bumpy road kind of gal. It seems that way.

I know how I got to where I am. Loud, fast and without regret.

But my son has changed me. I am patient, calm, and inspired. I want him to experience a great life. I want him to LIVE his life, and follow his dreams. But, how can I teach him that if I am not doing it myself? I don't want him to look at me one day and in response to something life changing or significant say, "Well, you didn't so why do I?"

I was curled up with him the other day, and he was just looking at me with his big, beautiful eyes and they were filled with trust and wonder...and eye boogers. So I gave him a bath and the whole time he was smiling and laughing, I was thinking of ways I could make my life better. For him.

The next day I dropped all the excuses, apprehension, and reservations I had and began the process of getting enrolled in college courses. So now I am a mom, an employee, a "housewife", and a student. Not a single person on this planet can look at me and say I am not trying.

I feel rejuvenated. And I have my son to thank for that. He is not even 5 months old and he has already inspired me so much.

I think the increase in posts I have written was my first clue!

It takes a village...

...or a Facebook group.

I wrote a post and made a joke about how Pinterest may end up raising my child. (Which reminds me that I must check my Pinterest.) At the time I didn't realize how social media or the internet would become such an integral part of my life when it came to raising my son. And not in the WebMD, obsessed way. In the "I have friends online that know what they are talking about" way.

I have always believed the old adage "It takes a village to raise a child". I am lucky enough that I have family and friends that watch Kendrick while his Dad and I are at work. It makes me sad that I miss some new funny thing that he does, but it makes me happy that they get to experience him growing into a fun, little person. But, I digress.

When I was pregnant, I often visited a website for moms and moms-to-be and had the pleasure of making internet mommy friends. Even though they started out as perfect strangers, they helped me keep my sanity, gave me sound advice,  made me laugh, and continue to give me amazing support. I felt like I was part of the Cool Moms Club long before Kendrick got here. We built friendships and eventually a Facebook group, that I will be the first to admit, I am addicted to. I've said it before. It's like match.com for pregnant chicks. Although we are all way past that stage. I love that I have these girls in my life. My online support group for sleep deprived moms!

So my point is this. I received some sound advice to never be afraid to ask for help. If you need it, seek it out. No one knows everything. And if you think you do, you don't know squat. Becoming a mom will teach you that. I was gearing up for taking on any and every challenge of mommyhood. Even though Nick was there to help, I had to learn how to ask for it. So I realize this now. It really does take a village.

My village just happens to be half digital.

How I Met My Little One...A Birth Story

     So what started out as a desired med-free, specifically chosen hospital, naturally started labor turned out to be something completely different. This is a true story. Only the times may have been changed to protect the fact that I still have pregnancy brain.

     I was due Nov. 17. Little one had yet to get off his lazy butt and make an appearance so I went to my ultrasound that was scheduled for 8:15 Monday morning at the hospital across from my doctor’s office (He delivers at two hospitals, my ultrasound was not at the hospital I was registered to give birth at). I took my mom because I thought she would want to see her grandbaby. I’m glad I did. The tech did her thing then went and got a doctor. He came in, asked about my medical history, and said my fluids were low and that they wanted to deliver.

     It took a second to register. When it did, I looked at my mom and said in my head “Holy sh!t! @#$@$%&*%#$@#@$%!!!!!”. What I said was, “Holy crap.”

     So I got settled in my room about noon. I had yet to eat anything because we were going to go out to breakfast. My doctor approved a full, regular diet for me even though I was being induced. I was literally the only person on that floor of the hospital that was allowed that. My doctor liked me. So I ate for the girls that couldn't!

     They put a Foley in around 2 p.m. and I was 4cm by 5:30. They started Pitocin a little while after that and broke my water. Contractions were coming fast, hard, and all in my back. An hour or so in my body kicked in and was having natural contractions on top of that so they turned the Pitocin off. Thank God. Nobody should have to endure a 4 minute contraction. I was still med free at this point.

     Nick was great! Helping me through it all. About two-thirds of the way through I could no longer take the back labor. The words “Billy don’t be a hero” went through my head. I said "epidural!" And I got it. I didn’t even feel it go in. Probably because I had a contraction start right when they put it in. It’s hard to sit really still when you have a needle and a contraction in your back. Silver lining: I wasn’t thinking about the needle. I hate needles.

     I could still feel the contractions through the epidural and extra shot of pain med they gave me. I felt like something was wrong which I voiced to a nurse. I kept insisting they check me.  LO wouldn’t rotate. He was sunny side up. And the way he was laying I was 7cm on one side of my cervix and 10 cm on the other. So they had me on my hands and knees over a bean bag chair for an hour and a half. He finally turned, I finally dilated. Except for a small section. They said I could wait or try and push him past it. I pushed. And we were ready to go.

     I started pushing at 5:55 a.m. Tuesday. He was at -1 and I had him at +2 in two pushes! At 6:18 a.m.  I was holding my handsome, wrinkly, crying baby. And I fell fast and hard in love. I am proud of that 23 minute push. Hoo-rah!!

     Earlier, while laying on the bean bag chair, in what I call the “Tipping Cow Position”, I decided I would start slowing down my epi so I would be more in control during delivery. Delivery didn’t hurt. I got a 2^nd degree tear and one up the top too. Ouch.

     Every time Nick and I talk about the experience he gets a smile and tells me how amazing I was. I’m just proud that I kept my wits about me. I was never more focused in my life. So even though I got induced, pain meds and delivered at a hospital that I didn’t choose, I would do it all over again.

     Kendrick John was 7 lbs. 1 oz. and 18 3/4 in. at birth. At his first appointment, when he was six days old, he weighed 7 lbs. 8 oz and was 20 in. long. I am not going to be able to keep up with this little guy!

If being pregnant has taught me anything...

     I have always been pretty good about being patient. Most of the time. Unless I am super excited about something and have the power to get it myself right away. Being pregnant is way different. For obvious reasons. Apparently, you can't just go out and get a baby at the drop of a hat, and sadly a stork doesn't just drop them off. You have to get through nine months of stuff. Ugh.

     Even though this was an oops pregnancy I have been wanting babies, and dogs, and picket fences. Okay,  maybe just babies and dogs. So once we found out we were pregnant I thought "Awesome! Here we go!" It did not take me long to realize I was not born with the glowing, serenity gene and love of being pregnant. Just thinking of those (lucky) women stirs my third trimester nausea.

     The time has actually flown by. It is everything else making me want to just have this little guy already and get it over with. I am ready. I am waiting. Let's do this. Nine months is a long time to day dream and plan and freak out. I can only get his room ready so many times before it gets ridiculous. Come to think of it, it probably already has.

     I feel as if I just roam the halls of my house and imagine what it is going to be like. I can't count the amount of times I just walk into his room and look around. And if I go through his clothes one more time, I may just call it what it is and become a self-certified creeper.

     My silver lining is this. I have learned patience through being with Nick. He is a handful, in a fun and loving way. My eye sockets hurt some days from the excessive eye rolling. I have learned patience from anxiously awaiting the arrival of our son. I only have two and a half-ish weeks left until I can confirm my suspicion that he is, in fact, the most handsome little man ever. By the time he gets here, I will have the patience of a saint. Maybe then I will acquire that mythical glow I keep hearing about.

     If anything, it will give me time to practice for when he gets old enough and both he and Nick take turns driving me crazy. I look forward to it :)

There should be an application process...

    Not really, of course. But the article I have linked in this post saddens me and my heart breaks for this little guy.
   
     I'm not saying I am the most perfectly qualified person to be popping out a kid. I don't believe such a person exists. But I do believe there should be a bar set. Not everyone should reproduce. And I can back up such statements with this particular article.

     This poor kid doesn't stand a chance. And these women are perfect examples of why not every person deserves the freedom to have children. Say what you will about my opinion, but I wish people like this were not allowed to have babies.

     I know that this would never happen. But it makes me sick that this woman refuses to see what a blessing it is to even be able to have children in the first place while capable, loving people have to prove themselves and spend Lord knows how much to foster and adopt children they could never have. This child deserves much more and I pray that the system does not fail him.

     I understand the difficulty of fighting an addiction, if she even cared enough to fight it. But if your child is not at the very top of your priority list at all times, and you put them in situations such as these, you do not deserve them.

     Rant over.

Things I Want My Son to Know...

     I have often thought of things I would put in this post and the more I thought the harder it became to write. So here I go. No thinking. Just writing.

     I always saw myself as a mom but I never actually thought it would happen. Now that it is happening, I think of what I want my son to know. I can't teach him everything. And as hard as it is to admit, I don't know everything. Shocking, I know. Some things he will learn on his own. A lot of which I'm sure in hindsight I am going to wish I had taught him first.

     But here are a few things I know that I will want him to hear from me.

1. Be the man you would want your son to be. We all have a vision of our son growing up to be, for lack of a better comparison, Prince Charming. Perfection in all things. We know that isn't possible but don't be a toad. Treat people with kindness and respect, even the most undeserving.

2. Your clothes are not wearable napkins. Don't be a slob. Cleanliness is next to momliness :) And your future wife will appreciate and respect a man who knows how to pick up after himself. Which brings me to...

3. Gender stereotypes are not excuses to get away with not doing things that are a "woman's job".  You will be surprised the response you get for folding the laundry and putting it away, or putting a nice home-cooked meal on the table.

4. If you find yourself in conflict, use your words. If you are anything like your dear, old ma then you will be blessed with a silver tongue. Defuse. Don't ignite.

5. Chivalry is not dead, people are just lazy. Just because you get the girl doesn't mean you automatically keep her. Relationships take work. Time wears people thin and we forget that the smallest of gestures bring the biggest smiles to our hearts. You should see your Grandma smile when Grandpa opens her car door for her. Again, it's the little things.

6. I don't care how old you are, I will never be too busy or not have time for you. 

7.  Real men really do wear pink. Don't get sucked into the stereotypes. It is very restricting and an immature way of thinking.

8. Family first. Always.

9. Always encourage. Never discourage. Even if somebody's dreams or ideas don't make sense to you, be there to give them a nudge forward if they get stuck.

10. Embrace change. We live in a fast world. With change comes new opportunities. New things to be learned. Never shy away from things that are new or different for you will only be limiting yourself.

11. There is a bright side. Choose to always see that first and foremost.

12. Crying doesn't make you any less of a man. You will very often hear your father describing everything he does as manly. Most of the time he is just being a goof. You will also often hear people say that men don't cry. Crying is just an expression of an emotion. That would be like telling you not to show your excitement on Christmas morning. That's just ridiculous. Never be afraid to shed tears. Sometimes it is exactly what you need to do.

13. I love you.

Pinterest may end up raising my child...

     ...because I have an addiction to pinning.

     Wow! It does feel better to get it out!! Only 11 more steps until I'm cured. I have found some awesome ideas I want to try once the little one gets here. I seriously feel bad for this kid. This is a board that I started on my Pinterest dedicated to my son. I am curious to see if and how some of these tips and tricks work.

     I have an endless list of crafts and DIY I want to do, and absolutely zero motivation to do any of it. I feel like once it is pinned to my board it is finished. His nursery would probably rock if I ever got around to doing it.

     I am hoping to at least curb this addiction so I am not chasing my son around with thumb tacks and post it notes, screaming "But I saw this on Pinterest!!"
 
     I can see it now. One day, he will be cruising the internet on some contraption that his out of touch mother will not understand, and he is going to come across his childhood. All neatly arranged on a virtual cork board. That's right, sweetheart. Your mom is a big, fat cheater.