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!

Reasons Why My Son is Laughing

     K is hilarious. He is only 13 months so he isn't cracking jokes yet, but he will. He makes me laugh every day. Even when I am trying to be stern. He knows I am a sucker for his laugh, and he uses it to his advantage. Mark my words. Here are a few reasons why my son is laughing:

1. He farted. From an early age boys think farts are funny. It is the times where he doesn't laugh afterwards that I approach with caution. Admit it. Baby farts are funny; sometimes impressive.

2. The dog stuck his tongue up his nose. Not his own...K's. K likes to get dog kisses. He especially laughs when the dog covers his face and gets all up his nose. Keep in mind it is WWIII when I try to wipe K's nose. But it's A-Okay when the dog does it.

3. He plays a challenging game of "catch the dog by the tail". Haha. This poor dog. I laugh just thinking about it. K likes to stand behind the dog and try to catch the dog's wagging tail. Sometimes he catches it, gets a good grip, and doesn't let go; which causes the dog to turn in circles. Does K let go? No. He hangs on for the ride. When he cannot catch his tail, he will just stand there and let the dog smack him repeatedly in the face. Mind you, the dog weighs 100 pounds...

4. I am trying to correct behavior. This one is my fault. For example, I was getting us ready to leave for the day; me to work and him to his sitter's house. I'm gathering our things and he is being too quiet. I go out to the kitchen and find him in the middle of the floor, covered in water and sitting in a puddle. He is not supposed to play in the dog's bowls and yet he is gleefully swinging an empty bowl around his head. How can you not laugh at that? So I pick him up to go change his clothes, except he is dripping so I am carrying him straight-arm in front of me. He puts his head back and laughs all the way to the bedroom...he knows...

5. My killer dance moves. We have dance parties. Watch out when Billie Jean comes on...just sayin'. ;)

What's in a name?

     For those of you who read these ramblings of my experiences in motherhood, I have changed the name of my blog to encompass some changes in my life. The new name has a very simple meaning. Let's break it down into two parts, shall we?

     "Single Mom". I assume that my readers are smart. The phrase itself is easy to understand; the life of a single mother is not. Being a single mom is hard work, just like for any parent. This single mom battles frustration, exhaustion, loneliness, financial strain, mom-guilt, etc. But, I embrace the pride that follows a successful day. I relish the hugs and random drool kisses. I wake up every day and make the choice to be strong, courageous, determined, thankful, and positive. That is a lot of choices to make when you are barely awake and your son is performing a ballet of "trust falls" and rail jumps in his crib at 6 a.m. when he should be sleeping. But, oh, that laugh of his. Music. His happy demeanor, thriving development, awesome health, and how he falls into an easy sleep are proof enough to me that I am rocking this mom thing :)

     "Double Shot". I know what you are thinking. Bring me ALL the alcohol!!! But that isn't the case or the meaning here. When I say "double shot" I mean, when I screw up I'm calling mulligan...until I get it right. And if I never get it right then it will be fine the way it is. I am not perfect. I will screw up. I get that. Besides, this mindset helps me battle the pressure of being a single mom and the scrutiny that it entails. And if that doesn't work...well, then line up the shooters and bring on the chocolate milk. Mama had a rough day :)

Salty Toes and Squishy Dough

Kendrick made Mother's Day presents for his Grandmas. I know it was a while ago, but I am a busy girl. Anyone else find it ironic that I blog about being a mom and yet I am just now getting around to this topic?

I digress.

Look at what my son made!!!!

A salt dough footprint and handmade card!

Here is how:

Salt Dough Footprint
1/2 cup white flour
1/2 cup salt
1/4 cup warm water

     Preheat oven to 200. Mix flour and salt. Add water. Mix then knead. May need to add a little flour here and there while kneading. You don't want the dough to be sticky...or crumbly. I formed a ball by tossing it from hand to hand, like a ball and mitt. Place dough ball on wax paper on a smooth plate. Place wax paper on the top as well. Flatten into a thick circle. I then made flat, circular motions on the top to give the dough a smooth surface. It makes for a good print! Remove the wax paper from the top only. Grab your munchkin! Kendrick's foot got stuck to the dough the first time so I put flour on his foot before making the impression. He looked at me weird...
     Once you make the impression and are happy with it, put it on a baking sheet and bake for 2 to 3 hours.
     Once it is done, paint it a color of your choosing. I chose a pearled paint so the foot indentations would show up nicely. I sprayed a clear gloss coat to finish it off!

Handmade Card
     I saw this idea on Pinterest and once again in real life. It is simple and fun.
    
     I cut a piece of construction paper in the Grandmas' favorite color. Then I placed drops and squiggles of acrylic paints onto the paper, placed it in a gallon size Ziploc bag, and sealed it shut. I placed the bag in front of Kendrick and let him just play with it to get the paint squished around. Once he was finished doing a phenomenal job, I removed the card and let the paint dry. I flipped it over and wrote a message to them from Kendrick! Voila!! Refrigerator art!

HAPPY FOOTPRINTING!!!!!!

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 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!

So this is where I am...

I have had a few months to reflect back on, and frankly, I am surprised. Things I was ready for I haven't experienced, and have dealt with things I wasn't expecting. And I never thought I would second guess myself so much. But, I am happily bumbling my way through it all. And it has been interesting.

So, from my experience so far, these are things I would like to share.

1. Sleepless nights aren't as horrible as they sound.  Yes, the next day sucks, but you get through it. Whether having a baby was planned or not, you will do anything and everything for them. And if that means walking the halls, singing, bouncing, rocking, and feeling the disappointment of having to start over because he woke up when you put him down... then so be it. We were all helpless at one point in our lives, and thankfully we had someone get us through it. At least that is what I tell myself when sleep deprivation comes lurking.

2. Your inner beast will awaken, and she will be fierce. I knew I was going to be a mama bear, but I never realized how primal I would feel. I feel like I am walking around constantly "armed and ready" even though I know that my son is okay and safe. I fear for the person that wrongly crosses my path.

3. I know it's love because I'm paranoid. I look at my son and along with the positive emotions I get, I get what some would consider negative emotions. Such as, paranoia, protectiveness, and sometimes possessive. Those emotions would undoubtedly ruin any other type of relationship. But when it comes to my son, I feel those "negative" things because I LOVE him.

4. Some women feel that instant bond. Others don't. I didn't. We all hear stories of that moment when the baby is placed on a mother's chest and they feel an instant bond and a glow. I felt none of that. I felt relief first. Relief of the process being over. And I remember thinking "I'm not pregnant anymore". I felt elation and recognition. There was love there of course. He was the son I had been waiting to meet. Lastly, I felt disappointed that I didn't feel that bond some women so fondly speak of. Day one and I already felt like a bad mom. My time spent in the hospital, I searched for it. Through the daze of adrenaline and exhaustion, I knew it was there. It wasn't until a week after he was home that it clicked for me. After greedily eating a meal in my lap, he dozed off into a milk coma, with a sleepy smile. And I cried. I knew it wasn't hormones. This was what I was looking for. That moment when everything I had in my lap nestled in my heart. And it has been growing unabound ever since.

5. My heart is no longer my own. It's true when they say that having a child is choosing to have your heart walk around outside your body. I was on the phone, catching up with my sister, and she asked me what I had been up to. Nothing. Work and taking care of baby are all I do. She jokingly said "I want to know your heart and soul". Without hesitation I said "Well, my soul is laying next to me drinking a bottle". And it was true. I looked down at his handsome face and saw myself. A formula covered, drooling version of myself!

6. Stretch marks are something to be worn. I used to worry about body image, and when I got pregnant I knew I was in for an anatomical revamp. Now I don't mind. My stretch marks are battle scars. Stripes of courage, and badges of honor. I wear them with pride because the reason I got them is worth more than anything I could imagine.

7. My life has been consumed by everything baby. And not in the sense of diaper changes and bottles. He is always at the forefront of my mind. I smile when I pull into the driveway when I have been at work all day. I check on him sleeping and hope he is having sweet baby dreams. I force myself to only text my babysitter once to see how he is doing, because I could easily blow up their phone all day. Some may say I'm obsessed. But how could I not be? Being a mom to him is amazing.

8. There will be no need to hire a clown for birthday parties. I am said clown. It's amazing the ridiculous antics I have been reduced to just to hear him laugh and see his smile. My lack of dancing skills and face contortions are apparently funny to my son.

I could actually go on and on, but I will stop here. After all, it's only been almost 4 months. There will be lots more to talk about!!

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.